Assassin's Creed: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity
by glasshorse017
Summary: What I believe the Assassin's Creed franchise would look like if went to Revolutionary France. This is my first attempt at writing anything, save for high school and college. I claim no ownership over any of the characters or the Assassin's Creed universe or any logos, but I do claim ownership to the original idea that takes place within the universe of the story.


288

Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity:

The Assassins in France

By: Jason Fischer

Dedicated to my father.

Table of Contents:

Prologue - 5

Part 1: Fraternité - 7

Chapter 1: All's Well That Ends Well - 8

Chapter 2: The Beauty of Paris - 11

Chapter 3: At the Lodge of Les Neuf Sœurs - 20

Chapter 4: The History We Know - 27

Chapter 5: Training - 34

Chapter 6: Breaking - 43

Chapter 7: Precision - 52

Chapter 8: In With the New, and Out With the Old - 62

Chapter 9: Departure – 73

Part 2: Egalité - 81

Chapter 10: Bread, Swords, and Apples - 82

Chapter 11: The Power - 92

Chapter 12: Cleaning House: Part 1 - 105

Chapter 13: Cleaning House: Part 2 - 110

Chapter 14: The Man - 120

Chapter 15: A New Home - 127

Part 3: Liberté - 139

Chapter 16: Rebuilding - 140

Chapter 17: Rearming - 147

Chapter 18: One to Save One-hundred Thousand - 154

Chapter 19: Retribution - 169

Chapter 20: Botched - 179

Chapter 21: A Time for Goodbyes - 189

Chapter 22: A Time for Action - 200

Chapter 23: Execution - 211

Chapter 24: The Times to Come - 226

Epilogue - 233

Prologue

"I have sworn on the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man."

-Thomas Jefferson

This is an attempt to recount the tale of the Assassin Order during the French Revolution, and their battle against the Templars who threaten the free will of mankind. What may be surprising to some is that the Templars fight for peace, as do the Assassins, but the means by which they would accomplish this task would rob mankind of the creative difference that has shaped the world for millennia. As far back as the times of the Crusades, and then farther back than that, the Templar Order has sought dominion over mankind. The Assassin Order has fought against them at every turn, believing that different ideas spawn creativity and the advancement of life. Even with the Assassin intervention, the Templar goal is not completely out of reach. They seek to use ancient objects left by an extinct race that once inhabited the Earth; the Pieces of Eden. Many forms of these objects exist, and they each contain mystical properties that range from piece to piece. By using these objects, the Templars could rob us of our free will. The Templar discovery of these objects and their mind-altering abilities began after the first millennia A.D., and they have pursued the acquisition of these objects since the Third Crusade. Thanks to the actions of the Assassins, the Templars have been unsuccessful in their goal so far, but the time draws near when the Assassins may fail in their protection of mankind; a time where hysteria, suspicion, and a dark cloud of terror rules the lives of the people. The tale begins with two men sailing from their newly independent country, on request of their friend, pleading that the two help strengthen the Assassin Order in France.

Part 1:

Fraternité

Chapter 1

All's Well That Ends Well

1785

December 31

The shoreline of America was barely visible now; just a line of green now stood where the coast once was. The ship drifted out a little more, and a man emerged from the cabin, striding across the deck of the Hermione. He wore a black cloak over his white undershirt to shield himself from the cold. In the past few years, he had noticed that his hair had turned white. 'Building a country can do that to you,' he would tell himself. He ran his hands across the ship's splintered railing. She had seen better days, to be sure, but she was well enough to survive her trip home. His eyes came to the burn on his left ring finger.

Another man appeared on deck, this one shorter and stockier than the first. He wore a blue ruffled jacket with a white shirt on under it. He came and stood beside the first man.

"Thought I'd find you out here, Tom."

"How goes the cabin?"

"It has its charms, but you can't escape the rocking of the ship anywhere."

The two shared a smile. They then looked over to the mountains. The sun was starting to set behind them, and the combination of the fluffy white clouds reflecting the sun's orange rays behind the ice-capped peaks bore a remarkable, yet simplistic, beauty.

"Sure nice of him to lend us his ship."

"…I've been thinking."

"About what this time?"

"About what we've done."

"Yes, what we have done is great indeed. Think; a land where any man can further himself as far as he allows himself to."

"That… was not what I was referring to."

"Then what?"

"Washington."

"This again?"

"No one believes me,"

"I don't believe you."

"But if he holds a Piece…"

"Nonsense, if he had one we would have known by now."

"Would we? Isn't that what it was designed to do? Create illusions?"

"Washington is not a Templar. And yes, we would know if he held a Piece."

"Maybe, but you need not bear the cross to be of the cross. It is something born in the hearts and minds of men. And once the idea takes over, it turns you into a dangerous weapon."

"And what idea would that be?"

Thomas looked at the waves as they crashed onto the side of the ship.

"That dominion over the mind of man is the solution."

Both men stood in silence for a long time, staring out towards the sun. It sank even lower until it disappeared behind the mountains. Ben broke the silence.

"Happy New Year, Tom," said Benjamin Franklin. He turned and walked back to the cabin doors, then disappeared into the depths of the ship. Thomas Jefferson watched his friend until he was gone. He looked up into the golden sky. True, they had played their part, but what would become of it? What did this say to the world? If the country held true to its values, the shores could be invaded by their enemies easily. In spite of everything that he had done, there was a feeling that Thomas could not escape; a feeling of treachery, of terror, of darkness.

"Happy New Year, Ben." Thomas' words addressed the wind. Ready for the night's nest, he headed below deck.

Chapter 2

The Beauty of Paris

1786

April 2

The carriage horse's hooves clapped along the cobbled streets of Paris, crushing the core of an apple that lay on the road.

"This, one day, is what America will look like. What do you think Tom? Will America ever match the beauty of France?"

Thomas looked out to the city from their carriage. What he saw was not a thing of beauty. He saw beggars, pickpockets, thieves, all kinds of delinquent behavior. No Ben, he thought, America should never try to match France's "beauty", but do everything in its power to prevent it.

"This city certainly has its charms," he remarked without taking his eyes off the city. The carriage came to a slow halt at the steps of the Luxembourg Palace. Both stepped out of the carriage, looking at the mass of people around them. The driver coughed loudly, with impatience. Thomas removed the ten gold coins they had agreed upon, but the driver carefully counted it out before pulling away. Satisfied with the amount, he flicked his whip, and the carriage started to move through the crowd, making a wave through the sea of people. It became difficult to move without bumping into people as they made their way to the palace.

"Where are we meeting him, exactly?" asked Ben.

"He told us to meet him inside the front doors of the palace, so I suppose that's where we are going."

"Does he… did he know when we were arriving?"

"I would imagine that the Duke would have the borders of the city watched, but we shall see soon enough." The two eventually made it to the doors of the palace which was guarded by two of the city watch. "Ah," Thomas said to the guards, "my name is Thomas Jefferson, and this is Benjamin Franklin, and we are here to meet with…" The guards opened the doors to the palace before Thomas finished speaking. He motioned to Ben, and the two walked through. The guards then closed the doors behind them. The front of the Luxembourg Palace was dark.

"Did you actually think that I would be so foolish to entertain you in my country?" echoed a voice. Thomas looked around, trying to identify the source of the voice.

"Get ready," Thomas said.

"Tom, I'm too old to fight, and so are you. If they mean to kill us, we are dead."

"Benjamin, you make this no fun," said the voice.

"From the balcony above the two, a figure stepped forward. Thomas walked back to one of the curtains and threw back the fabric. The light entered the room, and above them, they were greeted by the tall figure of Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette. He wore a navy blue coat that fell past to his sides, revealing his white pants and his red belt. His collar came up around his neck and was folded downwards, and the buttons that held his coat together were large and gold, polished to perfection. Thomas shook his head at up at Lafayette.

"I could not resist!" Thomas cracked a smile. Lafayette descended from the balcony and came to where the two were. "Brothers, how have you been?" asked Lafayette.

"We have been well," Thomas said, grinning. They clasped arms with each other.

"Did you enjoy the ride on my ship? I trust that she gave you little trouble."

"Hardly," retorted Ben. Lafayette smiled at him.

"Well, it is over with, and now you have real work to do. Let's go! I bet you are exhausted from your journey. It's just a little walk to our destination brothers." They took the street north and began to discuss current events.

"Tell me Thomas, how goes things in America?"

"Things are certainly shaky at the moment. Only four years after the end of the revolution and the states have almost collapsed on themselves. The Articles have proved too liberal, and now delegates from the states are meeting to draft a new government, but it remains to be seen if they can work together. Most at the convention are men that belong to our order, but so many of them have differing opinions, it makes the cohesion of ideas difficult."

"Ah, but is that not what we fight for? The survival of free will?"

"Those were my thoughts exactly," said Thomas with a smile. "Connor is doing what he can, but I'm more interested in how things have been for you. Has Louis-Philippe been serving well since Voltaire died?"

"No, not really. It is no real secret that things are not going well under him. He is preoccupied most of the time, what with his position of Duke of Orléans. It is something that needs not happen to a person with the title 'Mentor'."

"When will we meet him?" asked Thomas. Lafayette chuckled.

"He… doesn't exactly want to meet you. He would prefer it if you would just do your job and leave."

"Wow," said Thomas. "He really does not need to be Mentor."

"Yes, I agree with you, but you know our laws. Mentors only leave the position when they relinquish it willingly."

"But that precedent was set with the idea that no one would ever squander the position."

"True. Very true."

The three

"Have you found any of the bloodline?"

"Sadly, we have not… actually; there is one whom might be, but…"

"But what?"

Lafayette stopped and looked at the busy street.

"Maybe we should continue this conversation in private."

Thomas and Ben shared a puzzled look.

"Very well," said Thomas.

"Pardon me," Ben interjected, "but what is our destination? Where is this 'hideout'? "

"Ah, we are headed to Les Neuf Sœurs, and from there you will meet the team."

"Les Neuf Sœurs?"

"Ah, in English, the Nine Sisters. She is the grandest of all of our lodges, and the central meeting place for all of our brothers. Hold up." Lafayette held up his hand. Approaching an alley, the three could hear shouts and large thuds coming from within the darkness. They peered around to see three members of the guard beating a man with a hood over his head and his hands tied. "Let's be civil about this, yes?" said Lafayette. He rounded the corner and approached the men.

"I think that's quite enough now, gentlemen," said Lafayette to the three. The guard who was doing the beating stopped for a moment, but did not turn around.

"You will turn right around citizen, or maybe you wish to join this man?" asked the guard.

"Certainly," said Lafayette. The guard began to turn around.

"Just who do you think…" he began, but then got sight of Lafayette's robes. "Let him go! Let him go!" the guard said to the other two. The two dropped the man and joined rank with the first guard, heads bowed.

"Uh-huh," said Lafayette. "Now get out of here, before I report you to your superior officers." The men nodded, thankful that they were dismissed, and walked away hurriedly. Lafayette came back out of the alley with the man.

"Here," said Thomas, ejecting his wrist blade. He cut the bonds from his wrists and Lafayette pulled back his hood. The man underneath had short black hair with hazel eyes, one of them badly swollen. He had cuts and bruises along his face, and a white gag was tied behind the back of his head.

Lafayette undid the gag, asking, "So what did you do to deserve this?" The man smiled, through swollen gums.

"Some people, monsieur, have a hard time accepting two week notices." Ben looked at him curiously.

"Marat, is that you?" Marat looked over at Ben.

"Benjamin, what are you doing here, my friend?" he asked.

"You two know each other?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, Jean-Paul Marat." said Ben, "We've visited many times while I've been the ambassador." Ben looked Marat up and down, taking notice of his torn clothes. "Who did you upset?"

"Oh, some court dolt who can't take no for an answer. I will be retiring as the court doctor to focus more on scientific pursuits, and some people seem less than enthused about it."

"So you deal in science, mixing concoctions, that sort of science?" asked Thomas.

"Yes…" said Marat. Thomas shot Lafayette a look, which Lafayette picked up on.

"Marat, would you like the security in knowing that nothing like this would ever happen again?" Marat looked back and forth from the men, and then looked back at the figures of the guards disappearing behind the next alley down the street.

"That would be nice, yes," said Marat.

"Well come with us. Our organization can keep you safe. We only ask for one thing in return," said Lafayette.

"What is your price?" asked Marat.

"Your loyalty. Never betray us, and we, in turn, will protect you," finished Lafayette. Marat thought for a moment, and visions of the guards down in the alley weighed heavily on his mind.

"Count me in," said Marat.

"We were on our way to where you need to go, so why don't you join us?" asked Lafayette.

"Sounds good," said Marat. The four took off, and as they passed by the alley, the guards slunk into the darkness. They continued on for a while towards the Seine, and as they came to its flowing waters, Lafayette stopped the three.

"Oh my," he said. Thomas saw members of the city guard lined up over the bridge that crossed the river. They dropped a bucket tied to a rope into the river, then hoisted the bucket back up. From the bucket they pulled a severed arm and laid it on the bridge.

"See anything else?" one of the guards asked. The one with the bucket looked over the ledge.

"I do believe I see a head," he said.

"Let's move on," said Lafayette. He led them to a courtyard surrounded by a crescent-shaped stone building. "Ah, yes, here we are. We will be able to talk more inside." Lafayette produced a key. "You two will be granted a key, once we get inside." He thrust the key into the lock, turned it, and the door swung open. "Through here, Marat." Lafayette motioned to Thomas and Ben. "Come!" Marat and Lafayette disappeared through, leaving the doors open for the two. Thomas and Ben looked at each other. They shrugged, followed through, and Thomas swung the door closed behind them.

Chapter 3

At the Lodge of Les Neuf Sœurs

Thomas and Ben were awed at the grand sight that was before them. The interior of the building was a decorated with many carpets and chandeliers. An ornately carved staircase greeted the two and emptied to a balcony that spread in the crescent shape of the building. Two hallways opened to the balcony, and several assassins walked to and fro on their own business.

"Someone please help this man!" said Lafayette. Two assassins on the upper balcony come down to receive Marat. "Put him in one of our beds, see to his wounds, and I shall be down later to explain." He turned to Marat. "You will be safe here."

"Thank you sir, truly," said Marat, and he went away with the two behind a sliding door.

"So, you decided to have the assassin headquarters in the middle of the city." said Ben.

"Yes brother. Now that you are here, may I give you the grand tour?"

"Shouldn't we discuss what we plan to do?" asked Thomas.

"Yes, yes, but there is time for that later! We have time on our sides. Come now."

For the next half hour, Lafayette walked with them around the lodge, showing them rooms such as the kitchen, the study, the common room, and also introducing them to some of the assassins who were currently in between missions. After the tour, Lafayette brought them to the dining room table.

"Now brothers, we may talk freely," said Lafayette.

"Well, when did you move here, brother?" asked Thomas. "I thought the hideout was in the Notre Dame Cathedral."

"Yes, we were, and that was an unfortunate story. I tried to stop what occurred, but no one would listen."

"What occurred?"

"While cleaning, a priest accidently discovered the entrance to the headquarters, and out of curiosity, he followed down a lit corridor. The brotherhood was going about its daily business when he stumbled in upon them. After that, they apprehended him, and later killed him, thinking him a spy. They later toppled the statue of St. Christopher to make it seem like his death was an accident." Thomas began to feel uneasy.

"My god. Where were you?"

"I was away at the palace that day, having some talks with the king. No one would tell me what happened, but I was eventually able to coax it from one of our newer recruits."

"Surely there was a better way to handle such a thing?"

"Had I been there brother, trust me; things would have turned out differently." Thomas placed his face in his hands. Is this what this brotherhood had sunk to? Killing priests because of simple suspicion? Things were far worse here than he thought.

"But why did you decide to use this building, brother?" asked Thomas. "Surely there were other places that you could have occupied."

"There were places that we considered, to be sure, but there was an opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"You remember when our order became to be publicly known as the Freemasons?" Thomas sighed.

"Yes, that lovely decision."

"Well, the king built this grand lodge for us "freemasons", to show the world that Paris was the center of freemason activity." Thomas chuckled at that. "Yes, you can see the irony. The Templar king builds a home for his greatest enemies, and he doesn't even realize it." The two laughed at this.

"So, what was so important that we could not discuss outside?" asked Thomas. Lafayette surveyed the room to make sure that no one was listening before he spoke.

"There is one, who may be the descendant, but it is very important that you keep everything you are about to hear between you and me." Thomas nodded. "Bathilde d'Orléans, sister of Louis-Philippe, was working in her convent in Lyon on the night of April 13th, 1768 when a woman arrived late at night. She had gone into labor, so the sisters took her in and helped her. She gave birth to a girl, but there were complications during the birth, and the mother died."

"The mother's name?"

"Isabelle d'Aguillon."

"And the father?"

"We don't know. I doubt that the mother even knew."

"So what became of the baby?"

"As it happened, Louis-Philippe arrived a few days later to visit with Bathilde. He took a liking to the child and convinced her to let him take her. He brought her home and he and his wife raised her as their own."

"Wait, so she had no idea that Louis-Philippe is not her father?" Thomas asked.

"Keep your voice down," said Lafayette as he looked toward the door. "No," he said, "she believes herself to be his flesh and blood."

"And what is her name?"

"Her mother had named her Olivatré in the hours before she died. Bathilde had taken to calling her 'Little Olive Tree,' but Louis-Philippe disliked it, and changed it to Leona."

"And she is recruit status as of now?"

"No, she had become a full-fledged assassin by the time she was nineteen. We've never see someone rise through the ranks that quickly, seeing as how we only start allowing sixteen-year-olds to tag along on missions."

"Anything else?" asked Thomas. "I don't doubt you, but all it seems that you are describing is an assassin with natural talents."

"Well, Leona often comes to me with these strange dreams. In one, she often dreams about fighting an old man in hand-to-hand combat, who she describes as being ornately dressed. She says that they are surrounded by stones inscribed with blue light. Then she also dreams about fighting another elderly man in a black hood and robe overlooking a large cliff, but whenever she is about to defeat the men in each dream, the dream ends, and she is awake."

Thomas thought back to the history lessons that he had been taught.

"I'll need to do some study, but you might have something there. Has there been anything else?"

"There is, but you will need to talk to her when she gets back about it. It is so strange; I cannot even begin to describe it."

"Where is she?"

"Away on a mission in Italy. She's due back in four days."

"I will, once she returns." The men sat back and took sips of their drinks. They all thought in silence until a portly middle-aged man walked in on them.

"Ah, Honoré, just the man I was hoping to see," said Lafayette.

"Sirs," he said to Thomas and Ben. He reached inside his coat pocket and handed a sealed letter to Lafayette. Lafayette took it and read down the lines.

"Nguyen Ánh… Luxembourg… thank you Honoré. I'll have Max see to this. Have you seen him?" he asked Honoré.

"I think I saw him in the study. Shall I send for him?"

"Yes, please."

"Very well. Sirs," he said again to Thomas and Ben, before leaving.

"And who was that fellow?" asked Ben.

"That, friends, is Honoré Gabriel Riqueti, Comte de Mirabeau, also the man responsible for our intelligence in the field."

"What information did he give to you?" asked Thomas.

"It seems that our dear king is hosting Nguyen Ánh, the Vietnamese prince, at the Luxembourg. I don't know if this is a social call, or something more. I'll have…"

Just then, the door opened, and a man walked in and stood among them. He was not a tall man, but his eyes were wide and full of intrigue. He wore dark brown pants down to his ankles, with leather boots coming up over them. The heels were rather low, and the toes of the boots were square. His brown coat was cut away in front at a rather high waistline with the back coming to a narrow tail with plaits pressed flat from the waist. His collar was high, and turned over squarely where it met large lapels. His waistcoat was buttoned, a little longer than his coat. It was open at the neck, where it showed the white stock collar and small cravat of lace. He had a neckerchief half tied around his neck, and his hair was trimmed. Benjamin broke the silence after eyeing him.

"Well, who's this queer fellow?"

"This, dear friends, is my old apprentice; Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre."

Chapter 4

The History We Know

"Oh," said Lafayette, "This is Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin."

"The engineers of the American Revolution? It is an honor," said Robespierre.

"Oh, it was hardly the work of two men," said Thomas.

"Come now, the author of the Declaration of Independence," he said to Thomas, "and the master propagator," he said to Ben, "were hardly small parts to play. You truly have done some inspiring work."

"Well, we thank you for the kind words… ah… Maximil…"

"Just call me Robespierre, everyone does."

"Robespierre," said Thomas, but in his head he thought of what an awkward name that was. Robespierre turned to Lafayette. "You summoned for me?"

"Yes. There has been talk that Louis is hosting the Vietnamese prince Nguyen Ánh. Go out into the city; see what you can find out." Lafayette handed him the letter that he had received from Honoré. "Everything that you need to know is in here."

"I shall depart at once. Sirs," he said to Thomas and Ben.

"Everyone's sure polite around here, aren't they?" said Ben.

"He seems like a good fellow," said Thomas. "Was he going in those clothes?"

"He is in the government, so he does not always wear his robes on his missions. He usually takes missions where being a government official would be best suited for"

"That's good for the Order," said Thomas. "Well, we've chatted, but I'm afraid we haven't got anything done. What is the situation?"

"As you have no doubt already seen, things are not well here. The Templars seek domination over France, and if nothing is done, they may very well have it. Louis XVI may not know how to run a country, but he certainly knows how to keep the people oppressed. The Third Estate is always under crushing pressure, while the Second and First Estate live life in excess. The Templars have managed peace between Austria and France through King Louis' marriage to the Austrian princess Marie Antoinette. So now, the Templars almost hold the combined powers of Austria and France in their hands."

"Do they hold a Piece of Eden? An Apple?"

"Brother, I can confirm that Louis holds an Apple of Eden. As you know, I work in close proximity of the king, so every now and then he comes to me with a problem or a puzzle that he cannot solve. Mostly it involves putting some kind of clock back together, but this one time, three years ago, he summoned me into his study. There, he was holding the Apple, throwing it back and forth between his hands like it was a ball. He asked if I had ever seen something like it. I told him no, and then he handed it to me. Something happened when I touched it, and the Apple began to glow in a faint light. Louis looked startled and took it from me. He hasn't spoken of it since."

"Why did you not take it?"

"Thomas, if you ever get to hold one, you will understand. When you touch it, the things you see in your head amaze you to the point of not being able to move. Birds of metal that fly in the sky, towers of stone that rise high into the air, the wonderment paralyzes you. And I could not have gotten away with it. He has Versailles locked down tighter than the Vatican." Thomas nodded.

"So, how did he come by the Apple?"

"You are in for a bit of a history lesson, my friend. It was during the reign of King Edward III of England, when he claimed the French throne through his mother after the death of Charles IV. Because of Salic law, this claim was denied as the throne could not be inherited by a woman or through a female line, so Philip IV, Charles' cousin, became king of France. Things became quiet, but eventually Edward became displeased with the arrangements, and renewed his claims to the throne. This event started the Hundred Years War, the conclusion of which saw the English claims unfulfilled, and Henry II of the House of Valois as king. But it was not always clear that France would win this war. The appearance of a peasant woman changed the course, and led to French victory. Do you remember who that was?"

"Joan of Arc?"

"Joan of Arc. She claimed to have had a vision from God telling her to reclaim her land from the English invaders, and was sent to Orléans to assist with the siege there. She arrived, and miraculously lifted the siege in nine days."

"That sounds interesting, but how does this relate to the Apple?"

"Yes, well, what I believe actually happened was that Joan found the Apple of Eden in the Domrémy Wood, close to her hometown. I have visited there, and have found ruins of an ancient temple deep in the forest, so I believe a likely scenario was that she found her way in, retrieved the Apple from it, and made her way to Chinon. After this, she was found by Charles VII, a Templar. Instead of taking it from her, he inducted her into their order. It was after this that she used the Apple to gain a following, and was eventually sent to Orléans. She then went on to win key victories for the French, until her capture at the siege of Compiègne. She was then sold to England, where she was tried, convicted, and burned at the stake."

"So, how did the Apple make it back to the king?"

"As was custom, she was the last to leave the battlefield. But, we believe that she gave the Apple to one of her fellow soldiers before they fled back into the city walls. She instructed for it to be given to the king, and it has been in the monarchy's possession ever since, a trinket passed down to each new monarch."

Thomas sat back and closed his eyes. He thought for a moment.

"So, what is our next move?"

"Strengthen ourselves, then slip into Versailles and take it from the king. Simple, no?" he said with a smile.

"Simple enough to get us killed. We'll need to formulate a plan at some point," said Thomas. He yawned and looked at a sleeping Ben Franklin. "It seems that Ben has already started his recovery."

"Ha-ha, yes. We have quarters for you both. We have secured a house for you, the Hôtel de Langeac. Ben is welcome to stay at my house, if he so pleases. I will gather your keys and meet you two downstairs, and then I will escort you to your homes." With that, he rose, and left the room. Thomas moved around to Ben's chair and kicked him in the leg. He jumped with a start.

"What, what, who… ah, Tom. Did I miss anything?"

"No friend, just a debriefing and our next course of action," he said with a chuckle. "We have been granted most generous accommodations. You may either stay with me at Hôtel de Langeac, or at Hôtel de Lafayette."

"I'll stay with Lafayette. I've had all I can stand of you over these past two months." Thomas smiled at him.

"You wound me, my oldest friend. Come, Lafayette is waiting for us downstairs to take us to our accommodations." Ben stood up and the two made their way down the staircase where Lafayette was waiting for them.

"So Thomas, your house is also on the banks of the Seine, just a little farther down from where we are."

"Sounds amazing. Thank you so very much for your generosity," said Thomas.

"And where has brother Benjamin decided that he will be staying?"

"I'll stay with you, if that is fine," said Ben.

"That is fine," said Lafayette. "Let's go. Thomas, your house… oh…" As the three approached the front door, it opened and a woman entered. She removed her white hood to reveal her long brunette hair, a single braid running along the side of her head. Her red sash hung off of her slender body, and her ocean-blue eyes stared at the three before her. "Leona, you weren't expected back for four days!"

"Well I know, but Italy is so boring when you have nothing to do." She handed Lafayette a letter, which he read.

"Interesting. You will give me a full debrief tomorrow?" asked Lafayette.

"Yes."

"Good. Oh, friends, this is Leona. Leona, this is Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin." said Lafayette.

"The preservers of freedom," she said to them. "It is an honor."

"Really, Connor did most of the work," said Thomas. "But thank you. I will send him your regards the next time I see him."

"Well friends, I am very tired from my journey," said Leona.

"Me too," said Ben.

"Goodnight, Leona" said Lafayette.

"Goodnight," she said. She walked past them and disappeared around toward the bedrooms.

"You know, she reminds me of someone I knew…"

Chapter 5

Training

June 10

"Sorry sir, they proved difficult to persuade." said Leona as she herded three men into the Armory. Today, Thomas was receiving three new recruits, and had asked for Leona's assistance in their training.

"Hello everyone," said Thomas, eyeing the three. "Some of you may already know me, but I always appreciate a proper introduction. My name is Thomas Jefferson, and I have been given the task of making assassins out of each one of you. If you pay attention and follow my instructions to the tee, you will be able to succeed here. Understood?" The three nodded their head. "Good, well you know all about me, but I am afraid that I don't even know your names." The tall man with shoulder length curly hair stood forward and made a grand bow.

"Jean-Marie Collot Herbois, at your service," he said with a grand smile on his face. "And I believe I say for everyone that it is an honor to be apprenticed under you, sir."

"All right, all right; calm down young sir. Your sweeping bravado will not help against enemy steel." Jean-Marie slunk back into line. "But don't be discouraged. Keep your enthusiasm headed in the right direction and you will be able to perform your duties well." Jean-Marie nodded at this.

"Thank you sir."

"And you are…?" Thomas said to the man standing to the right of Jean-Marie.

"Jacques Nicolas Billaud-Varenne, sir."

"Very good, and…"

"Louis Antoine Léon de Saint-Just," interrupted the last man.

"Ah… good; and I'm sure that you've all met Leona. She is…"

"When do we begin training?" interrupted Louis again.

"We will begin training whenever I am done speaking," said Thomas sternly. "And I will ask you to please not interrupt me again." Thomas tried to look Louis in the eyes, but he shifted them down to the floor.

"Anyway, I can guess that you are all wondering what exactly you are doing here. You may have been invited by one of our members to join, or as with Leona here, you may have been born into the order. But you may find you asking yourselves, what is an assassin, truly? There have been many assassins, therefore many different interpretations, but what it simply boils down to is that we are the guardians of the free will of mankind, and the enemies of anyone who would seek to control it. Our belief is that the creative difference that exists between all humans is the driving force behind our progress as a race. Just look at our very recent history to see so. However, there are those who would seek dominion over the mind of man. I am speaking of the Order of the Knights Templar. If you are not a student of history, the Templars were born out of the Crusades, and the Order of the Assassins rose up to defy them. However, what is not known to history is that we have waged a shadow war against each other for thousands of years. Only in the Crusades did we take up our mantles as you know them today. A bit of irony that is lost on many is that we fight for the same goal: peace. But we fight over how we are to achieve this goal." Thomas moved to a cabinet behind him and pulled three leather bracers from within. "But I have talked too long, and time is short. To get a job done, you need tools, yes?" He laid them out onto a table separating him from the recruits. They eyed them, confusingly.

"What is this tool?" asked Herbois, picking up one. Thomas flicked his wrist, and with a metallic swoosh, a long, slender blade not more than an inch in width extended from his sleeve.

"The hidden blade, as we call it affectionately." He then retracted the blade back into his sleeve. "Our order has used them for centuries, and they have proved consistently reliable, even with our rapid change of technology. Now, put them on." Each recruit did so. "Now each blade is held to the bracer, as you can see, and the blade is held in place by a spring. This is when the blade is at rest. As you have seen, the way to eject the blade is to flick your wrist and cause the blade to overcome the force of the spring. There, it catches onto a hook that allows it to stay in place. Now, try it yourselves."

Each recruit did so, and their eyes became wide with wonderment as they saw the blade held to their wrist.

"Sir?" asked Herbois.

"Yes?"

"How do ours retract?"

"Ah yes, by a simple ring on your finger. To the ring, a piece of twine is attached, connected to the hook that holds the blade in place once you've extended it. When you pull on the ring outward, the twine pulls the hook back, allowing the blade to retract. Each person's wrist length is unique, so we must personalize them. I will help you, Jacques and Louis. Leona, you help Jean measure his. It cannot be too short or too long. The former causes your blade to retract too easily; the latter causes the blade to be too difficult to retract." Leona and Thomas each measured and pulled the appropriate length of twine from the cabinet for them. "You need to be able to feel the twine become taut at the moment that it reaches the hook. There, I think that you all have functioning models now." Each recruit nodded as they flicked out their blades and retracted them. "Now, you must learn how to use this device. Meet me out next to the practice dummies in a half hour."

Les Neuf Sœurs had a backyard walled off by thirty foot stone walls, essential to keep watchful eyes away from what went on there. It led to the façade of the secrecy of the Freemasons, as to not seem too out of place. The yard was full of straw training dummies and obstacles for recruits to practice their skills on, as well as an arena to practice their fighting skills. This is where Thomas found himself. Before him were his recruits, practicing stealth assassinations on the dummies.

"And remember Jacques, it is essential to cover the target's mouth. As insensitive as that sounds, if your target screams, your cover is blown and you may not survive whoever comes to their aid." Billaud-Varenne removed his blade from the straw and retracted it. "You all seem to have gotten the hang of it. Now, walk with me over to the arena."

The arena was a fifteen foot diameter circle with wooden planks to distinguish the edges of the circle. Along the sides were wooden bleachers where one could watch from.

"Good, now we will discuss the issue of swordplay. Leona, could you tell us what is the most important factor when engaged in combat with an opponent?"

"Defense, with a considerable offense hidden inside of it."

"But what about when your opponent is wielding a weapon that cannot be easily dodged or defended?"

"You use their weapon against them."

"Very good. You can also use the dirt at your feet. You will use wooden swords when you fight each other here, but remember that outside these walls, things become very real. Now I want you to pair up and spar with each other. Take turns with being the attacker and defender. Jean, you've been squirming around. You pair up with Leona. Louis and Jacques, you two will be together."

Thomas watched the recruits draw their swords and square off against each other. His eyes came to Leona. He watched how she used her sword most gracefully, and how she did not seem to be defeated at all by Jean, who Thomas noticed was no novice with a sword either. She seemed to be able to detect his moves before he even made them. After about a half hour, he stopped them.

"Alright, that is enough for sword training for today. As you may tell, I am no sword expert. We have a different instructor for that. I will be keeping track of your progression through all the disciplines of our order, though. It is solely up to me when you are promoted to full Assassin status. But don't take my tone as negative. I believe that you all did very well today. You all demonstrate the willingness to learn, and that is what is truly important. Thank you, you are dismissed." The recruits left Thomas, each heading their own way. "Leona, could I see you later tonight in my office?" asked Thomas

"Surely, sir," she said.

The sun was low in the sky as it shone it's last upon Les Neuf Sœurs. Leona approached Thomas' office. She knocked twice before opening the door.

"You wished to see me sir?"

"Yes, come in and shut the door behind you. Please, sit." She sat in the chair across from Thomas' desk.

"You did a splendid job out there today, showing the recruits the ropes. Could I count on you to help me in future training sessions?"

"I should be able to sir, when I am not away on assignments."

"That is all I ask. Would you like some tea?"

"Sure." Thomas pulled the kettle he had on his desk and poured a cup for both of them. "So," he said, as they sipped their tea, "it should be no surprise to you to hear that Lafayette told me of your gift." Her eyes wandered to the floor. "Tell me about it."

"I'm afraid I don't even know how to describe it," she said.

"Go ahead and try."

"Well… it's this ability. I discovered it as I was a child, trying to find certain toys around my home. At will, I am able to see the world through a darkened filter. And… whatever I'm looking for seems to be outlined in a golden glow. It seems that my ability is meant to give clues about the environment you are surrounded by."

"And you just call it your ability?"

"That's all I know. I have no name for it." Thomas picked up a book on his desk that he'd been flipping through. He turned to a page he had marked and gave it to Leona. She read over a general description of her own gift, with a label at the top.

"Eagle Sense?"

"We aren't really known for naming things," Thomas chuckled.

"What does this mean?"

"Certain members of the brotherhood have developed this… this 'sixth sense' if you will. It is extremely useful in our line of work."

"My father does not have this, though."

"It's not passed through blood. Or it is, and it is not manifested in everyone that has it."

"This is good to know. I thought myself a freak, but this is comforting." Leona looked at the clock on the wall. "Oh sir, I am expected home early tonight, so I must take my leave."

"Of course," he said. He got up and opened the door for her. As she walked out, he stopped her.

"We are given gifts for a reason, Leona, to use them for the benefit of others. Don't forget that." She nodded, and left him. He watched her walk down the hallway, until she disappeared down the staircase. Thomas closed the door and went back to his desk. He picked up the book he had handed to Leona and brought it back to his seat. He looked over the page that he had showed her.

"Eagle Sense? Really?" he said, and began reading.

Chapter 6

Breaking

1789

May 6

Thomas had woken up very early that morning in a peculiar mood. He ate his breakfast quickly and then made his way out to the bustling streets towards Les Neuf Sœurs. As he approached the doors, they opened to reveal Lafayette.

"Ah, Thomas!"

"Lafayette!"

" Are you ready to go?"

"I hurried through my breakfast just so I could be here."

"Well, I should have a carriage that's supposed to be arriving... ah! There it is." A carriage stopped in front of the lodge, and Thomas and Lafayette entered it. "The town of Versailles, at the Hotel des Menus Plaisirs , 22 Avenue de Paris." he told the driver. He flicked his whip and the horses started their trot southwest.

"So, how goes the training?" Lafayette asked Thomas.

"It goes well. They need a little more work, but with the help that I get from Leona I think that they will be able to graduate soon into assassin status." Lafayette looked proudly at him.

"Very good Thomas. To be honest with you, those recruits were ones that I had little hope for. But you took them on, despite all of that. I am very grateful that you are here."

"Sometimes friend, all someone needs is a little support behind them," said Thomas. Lafayette nodded.

The building of Hotel des Menus Plaisirs was in the shape of a large rectangle. The center of the room was clear except for a long wooden table which sat Charles Louis François de Paule de Barentin, the Keeper of the Seals, Jacques Necker, the Minister of Finance, and Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès, elected to represent the clergy. Behind the wooden table sat Louis XVI on a solitary throne. The First Estate, the clergy, and the Second Estate, the nobility, were seated along the sides of the floor, and Thomas and Lafayette sat in the back of the room along with the members of the Third Estate, the commoners.

"See the man that's sitting next to Sieyès?" said Lafayette. "That's Mirabeau down there. He has also been elected to represent the Third Estate." Barentin stood and held his hands high to ask for silence. The room fell silent.

"The Estates-General is hereby called to order. By decree of the king, the Estates-General grants double representation to the Third Estate, and…" he hesitated, "and upholds the decision of voting by orders," he finished quietly. At once, mutterings started to come out from the back of the room, and soon grew to shouts. "Now…" Barentin's voice became dulled by the shouts of the Third Estate. "The first order of business…" His voice was eclipsed by the Third Estate's cries. Thomas looked at a helpless Barentin, then to Louis. The king leaned towards one of his guards. The guard then raised his rifle towards the ceiling and fired off a shot. The sound echoed through the building, and silence responded to the gunshot. A piece of the ceiling fell to the middle of the open floor. Barentin stood up at the desk, looking crossly at the back of the room.

"Now, the first order of business is the verification of voting," said Barentin.

"A most interesting development," Lafayette said to Thomas. Thomas nodded in agreement.

May 14

Thomas and Lafayette watched as the Estates began to leave the room in the middle of Necker's address.

"…and, the following taxes shall be implemented… ah…" Necker began to take notice as the Third Estate filtered out of the room. He looked back at the King, and was met with no consultation. Mirabeau stood up as a defeated Necker sat back down and spoke.

"Friends! Do not separate yourselves! We can all come to an agreement, but we must do so together!" he said, but his words fell on deaf ears. Soon the hall was empty, save for Lafayette and Thomas, who had gotten up and walked to the middle to speak with Mirabeau.

"So, now begins shuttle diplomacy…" said Mirabeau.

"Come," said Lafayette. "We should sit in on the Third Estate's meeting. Did I see Sieyès walk in with them?"

"Yes, I believe so," said Mirabeau. The three walked to the room that housed the representatives of the Third Estate. As they approached the doors, they heard murmurs from within. They opened the doors to find Sieyès ascending a table in the middle of the room, with everyone's eyes upon him.

"Communes! It is now our responsibility to let the king know of our grievances! Tell me, who is keeping you beleaguered, downtrodden, and under his control?" shouted Sieyès.

"The King!" replied the mass.

"And whom does he owe everything to? Who brings in the crops from the fields, the milk from the cows?"

"We do!" shouted the mass. Sieyès waved a pamphlet in his hand.

"What is the Third Estate?"

"All of us!" shouted the crowd.

"What have you been recently?"

"Nothing!" shouted the crowd.

"And what do you deserve to be?"

"Everything!" shouted the crowd.

"Let us vote by heading, and if it is not granted to us, we can overtake the guard! Soon brothers, very soon, we will make our demands met!"

"What do we do about this?" Thomas asked Lafayette.

"Actually, I was about to ask you the same question," he responded.

May 28

"And in conclusion of today's meeting, what does the representative of the Third Estate say?" asked Barentin. Sieyès stood up from his chair at his full height.

"The Communes move to proceed with verification of voting by head. We also move to vote together, and we invite all of our brothers from the First and Second Estates to join us. But be warned; we do not intend to wait for you. There are more than enough of us here to take on all of you, and we will rise from the fields where you thought us buried, and we will take back what we are owed!" Cheers came from the back of the room while the sides became silent.

Thomas, Lafayette, and Mirabeau were sitting in the living room of Les Neuf Sœurs, mulling over the events of that day.

"So, what does this mean for us?" asked Mirabeau.

"If, Louis grants voting by head, the Third Estate will have what it desires. Obviously, no more tax exemptions for the clergy and nobility, but it remains to be seen what they will wish to do with their power." said Lafayette.

"As I have seen," said Thomas, "when you give someone an inch, they take a mile. That is something the colonies worried about with the English taxes."

"I am afraid you may be right, friend," said Lafayette.

"Well, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, gentlemen," said Mirabeau. "I must return to my home. Being a representative to the Third Estate takes its toll on the body."

"We will see you tomorrow, after closing," said Lafayette.

June 17

"We have lost our faith in the king, and we no longer believe he has the power to fulfill his duties that he owes us. Therefore, the Third Estate declares itself the National Assembly," said Sieyès. At the end of his words, silence swept the room on every side.

"You what?" asked Barentin.

"We declare ourselves the National Assembly, a legislative body to replace the Estates General. We declare voting by head, and again, we would ask our brothers from the First and Second Estate to join us."

"You cannot do this!" said Barentin. "You do not have the authority to do so!"

"I think that we have numbers on our side, Keeper," said Sieyès. All eyes in the room were upon him.

"Today's meeting of the Estates General is adjourned!" said Barentin in an astonished voice. He then got up from the desk and made his way through a hallway, closely followed by the king.

"A National Assembly," said Lafayette. "I believe we may have a revolution sprouting up around us."

"I don't like this," said Thomas.

"Why? Does France not deserve the same freedoms that the colonies pursued?"

"You know that it does, brother. In the colonies, we were fighting against those who we believed that we were not Englishmen. They believed us to be different than them. They thought of us as colonists, and therein subjugated to different laws than themselves. Certainly that is going on here, but there are different circumstances in each situation. In the colonies, we were fighting against an oppressive regime, but that oppressive regime existed over a large body of water. A revolution in France would start from the inside out, and perhaps consume itself. The people of the Third Estate have known nothing but misery their entire lives; to give them immediate power in the government would certainly be a disaster."

"Well, you make it sound like you fought your revolution singlehandedly. Don't forget that you too had outside aid."

"Trust me, my friend; America has not forgotten what you have done for her. I just have apprehension when it comes to starting another revolution in a country where brother lives next to brother, and nobles ride through the streets, occasionally dropping food to watch the poor fight over it."

"In time, you may not have a choice," said Lafayette. He saw a strange look come over Thomas' face. "Trust me, brother, this is what France needs. We topple the king from power and set up our own government. We will be fine as long as we continue to stand guard."

"We will see about that," said Thomas. Lafayette looked about the empty room.

"We have tarried too long here. We must be back to the lodge and discuss the events with the others." The two then left the building and rode back in their carriage to Les Neuf Sœurs, where they discussed what needed to be done.

Chapter 7

Precision

June 19

The halls of Les Neuf Sœurs were empty that night; save for the group of assassin recruits that occupied its common room. The room was noisy with idle chatter until Thomas stepped into the room with Leona at his side.

"Recruits!" said Thomas. The noise in the room lowered to the sound of each recruit's breath. "You have been summoned here to undertake your final test, the successful conclusion of which will see you brought to the status of assassin." Herbois rubbed his hands together and smiled.

"And what is our mission, monsieur?" he asked.

"In all things, you must realize that every action has a reaction. An action spreads through the waves of history, altering the path it takes. But who starts these actions? Tonight, it is you."

"So what is it?" asked Billaud-Varenne.

"We have intelligence that states that there are three keys that open the inner doors to the meeting place for the Estates General. We also have the names of the palace guard who hold these keys. Your first task will be to liberate each key from each member of the guard. The three reside in Paris, and their residences are here." Thomas produced from his vest three slips of paper and laid them on the table. "You will be splitting up for this venture. Once your key is secure, you will make your way to the Hotel des Menus Plaisirs where Leona will be waiting for you. With her, you will then infiltrate the outer sections of the Menus Plaisirs, then seal the inner doors of the meeting place from the inside, barring entry for anyone who wishes to enter tomorrow. Do you have any questions?" Saint-Just raised his hand.

"How will this act help us?" he asked. Thomas was about to speak, but Leona interrupted him.

"If you had been keeping up with the news from the Estates General, you would understand," she said. Saint-Just looked at her with distaste.

"Then tell us," he said.

"The Third Estate has declared themselves a National Assembly, a governing body by the common people to replace the monarchy and the Estates-General. If the doors are sealed, tomorrow morning they will not be able to get in to the meeting, and will immediately suspect that the king is trying to fight against them. This will confirm the fears of the National Assembly had all along, and will spur them towards their goal of independence."

"How did you know that?" asked Billaud-Varenne.

"I've been going to all of the meetings and delegations over the past month," she said.

"Ah."

"Very good," said Thomas. "There are no further questions? Jean-Marie?" Herbois had raised his hand.

"Yes. You say we are sealing the doors from the inside. How are we going to get out of Menus Plaisirs if we are locked in?"

"Good question. It is why Leona is accompanying you there. She has been looking the place over for the last month, and has found a path to get out of the inner meeting area once locked in. Would you like to tell them, Leona?"

"Sure. If you are able to climb up above the chandeliers, you are able to climb among the rafters that the chandeliers hang from. Then there is a gap in the upper wall, shaped like a circle that is large enough for someone to climb through. That's how I'll get out." The recruits nodded.

"Good," said Thomas. The three grabbed out at the pieces of paper and read them. "You have your targets, and you have your instructions. Do this quickly and silently, but no bloodshed. We don't want the idea that the keys were robbed from a dead man, we want this to appear as an act of aggression from the king, and that only happens if the three stay alive. Now off you go." With that, the four took their leave and made their way to their targets.

Leona waited behind the bushes with Herbois and Billaud-Varenne next to the Hotel des Menus Plaisirs. The three had been waiting for over an hour for Saint-Just. She kept her eyes on the road closely, looking for any sign of him.

"You two have no idea what is taking him so long?" she asked.

"No," said Billaud-Varenne. "We went our separate ways when we exited the lodge."

"I wouldn't worry," said Herbois. "Louis is pretty straightforward in his tasks. Whatever is taking him so long through is not him being idle; he must've run into a snag." The three heard the canter of a horse, and they ducked down into the shadows. The horse came to a stop in front of the Hotel, and a figure descended from it.

"Leona? Jean-Marie? Jacques?" said the figure.

"Louis!" said Billaud-Varenne, rising to meet him.

"Louis," said Leona crossly. "You know what you're supposed to do to call to us."

"I have no desire to repeat bird calls. I prefer to do things my way." said Saint-Just. He removed a key from his robes. Leona sighed.

"Every mission that Monsieur Thomas has sent you on and nothing's changed." She glanced down at his left wrist. She noticed that it was dyed red. She took it in her hand and felt the warmth of the liquid. "Why is your blade arm bloody?" Their eyes came up and met each other's at the same time. She grabbed him by the collar. "Idiot! You were not given permission to kill these men! You know the rules! You must finish your assignments as dictated by our teacher. You actions affect Jean-Marie and Jacques as much as they affect you! If Thomas finds out about this, you could be held back!"

"Wait…" said Jean.

"You know, your brothers have been waiting three years for this opportunity! Whether you take your time here into consideration is of no consequence to me, but I feel like they are ready to become assassins!"

"Would you calm down for a while? Just a little while is all I ask." Leona relented.

"Fine, explain yourself."

"I'm late because my target was not at his residence. I had to find out where else he might be, which took the better part of an hour. I learned from some passerby that he frequented a bar that was far away from his home, so I had to travel there, okay? While looking for him, I rested my arm on top of a weak barrel of wine which gave under my weight. So that is why my wrist to my elbow is dyed red." he said, with a tone of annoyance. Leona looked him over. She released his collar to grab his wrist in question.

"Only one way to be sure," she said. She flicked her hidden blade out and ripped away some of the cloth from his wrist.

"Hey!" Louis said. Leona popped the piece of cloth into her mouth and swished it around. She tasted traces of berry flavor and alcohol on her tongue, and then spat it out on the ground.

"I'm sorry for being presumptuous Louis. Were you successful?" she asked. Louis reached inside his tunic and brought out an iron key, hanging from his finger. Leona took it from him.

"Now, we must finish this task set before us. The time was late when we began, and now, we've even less. Dawn's approaching, and we must be finished before then." She motioned to the others. "Come, I had left a window unlocked the last time I was here. Hopefully it has remained so."

Leona pushed on what seemed to be a normal piece of the wall, but was actually a door, and it swung open to where the Estates General met. She walked through, followed by the other three and surveyed the room. The center of the room was bathed in silvery moonlight that shone through a windowed ceiling. She walked with the three to where the king would sit.

"I don't understand why we don't just kill him," said Saint-Just.

"Do you remember Joan of Arc, Louis?" asked Leona, not turning around.

"The martyr?"

"Now, why did you associate her first with martyrdom? She was a peasant girl, a mighty warrior, and also an advisor to the king."

"Well, because that was about the most significant thing that happened to her in her life. She was burned alive for believing an idea."

"Exactly. That is why we do not simply kill our targets that hold high regard among people. Martyrdom is a deadly tool to wield. The tide of the Hundred Years War was changed because of Joan of Arc and what she meant to the people of France." She turned to face the three. "Joan of Arc was a Templar and wielded the Apple of Eden that the king now holds. It is why we must work like this. I need each of you to take two broadswords and bring them with you to the doors. They are located on the walls surrounding this place, hung as ornaments. Once you lock the doors, slide the broadswords through the handles of the door, for added insurance." She gave keys to Saint-Just and Herbois, who then separated towards one of the doors. "I have to hold one, so I can lock myself in," she said to Billaud-Varenne. "I'll help you with the broadswords" She went behind Louis' chair and brought two sturdy looking claymores for Billaud-Varenne and herself. "Meet us over here when you are done!" she shouted over to the other recruits. Soon, the four were reunited at the last unlocked door.

"You all are free to go after you are outside. You need not to wait for me. "

"Won't you need, I don't know, backup?" asked Herbois. Leona pointed up at the rafters.

"A fall like that would probably kill me. I only have one shot at this, so your help, as kind as the offer is, wouldn't be beneficial to anyone," she said.

Leona slid the last claymore through the door handles of the east door and was alone. She walked back to the king's chair and sat in it. Thinking, she sat there for a few minutes, and then got up and walked to the center of the room. She removed her hood and stared up at the cloudless full moon overhead. She could almost feel the chilling rays of moonlight as one could feel the heat from the sun. She sat down, letting the moonlight shine upon her still, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, darkness took the room. "Eagle Sense," she said, shaking her head. She observed the room in its entirety, until a column caught her gaze. It glowed in a faint blue color and was back near the king's seat. She walked over to it, pressed her hand to it, and studied its features. She noticed many areas in the column where there were missing pieces, most likely that had fallen out due to disrepair. These areas were large enough to place hands and feet amongst them, and continued up the entire length of the column, where it met the ceiling. She ran up the column, grabbed one of the notches, and used it to pull herself to the next. She climbed all the way to the ceiling and, looking to her left, jumped to a rafter that stuck across the walls. Pulling herself up, she saw that the next beam was only five feet from her. She jumped beam to beam, until they ended. The only problem was that she was not at her exit. Her eyes came to a large chandelier that hung between her and the circle opening. On the other side of it were more beams that did lead to her escape route. Eyeing the chandelier more closely, she determined that it would not snap under her weight. She jumped from the beam and caught on to it, shimmying around to the other side. She then back ejected from it and landed on the beam on the other side. She then again jumped from beam to beam until she came to her opening. Jumping to it, she clutched the wooden frame, and pulled herself to freedom.

Leona stopped in the middle of the bridge that connected the road to Versailles and Paris over the Seine River. She removed the small burlap sack that held the keys and tossed it into the river.

'One last thing,' she thought.

King Louis was awakened that morning by his personal guard.

"My king, you must wake up," the guard said in a hurried tone. The king stirred after a few more minutes of prodding.

"What… what is it…" said Louis.

"When we went to Versailles this morning, to Menus Plaisirs, we found the meeting place locked." Louis got up at the sound of this.

"What? Locked?"

"Locked and barred, from the inside." Louis had woken up quite enough to notice the slip of paper he had clutched in his right hand. "Get out of here," he told his guard. He read the note; upon it were the words:

Now, mon roi, reap what others have sown, as you are so accustomed of doing. Enjoy the harvest.

He crumpled it in his hand after reading it. Marie Antoinette had woken up at this point.

"What is it, dear?" she asked.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all," he said angrily.

Chapter 8

In With the New, and Out With the Old

July 13

"But I finished my task, and it had the repercussions that you thought it would. I am being promoted tomorrow, right?" asked Saint-Just. He was standing in Thomas' office, perplexed.

"Jacques and Jean-Marie are, but you are not, Louis," he said.

"Why?" he said through gritted teeth. Thomas got up from his desk.

"Because Jacques and Jean-Marie followed their instructions," he said sternly. "You did not! Our organization will crumble if not all pillars stand united! Until you are able to comprehend this, you stay under instruction."

"What did I do wrong?!" he shouted. Thomas looked at him, dumbfounded.

"You think me blind, Louis? You think your insubordination has gone unnoticed? I know about your mission in Calais. I know about Monaco, and I know about Dijon. And what the hell were you thinking in Nice? This last task was for the three of you, but it was also your chance at redemption in my eyes."

"I have done nothing wrong," Saint-Just said defiantly. Thomas picked up a copy of La Gazette that had been lying on his desk and read from it.

"July 12th, 1789, the body of a man was found floating in the Seine today. Family members have confirmed it to be the body of Charles du Frense, a member of the National Guard, who went missing on his way home the night of June the nineteenth. He was found with multiple stab wounds to his chest along with a stab wound through his neck. Authorities are investigating the matter, and citizens are asked to come forward with any evidence that may bring the killer to justice. Charles leaves behind his wife, Edith, his son, Frederic, and his daughter, Gabrielle." He laid the paper on his desk. "You widowed a woman and left their two children fatherless. This is not what assassins do" Saint-Just simmered.

"Well, we can't do anything about it now, can we?" said Louis.

"Your blatant disregard for human life is astonishing, truly. Have you ever heard empathy, Louis? It is one of our most treasured gifts, and is what binds all of humanity together. Have you ever felt the pain of another?" Saint-Just stared at his feet, angry.

"So what are you going to do now?" he asked, still staring at the floor.

"I should report you over to the National Guard and abandon you to your fate, but that would be a mistake. I know that your tongue would slip out of your mouth the moment they questioned you. I could kill you myself, but it would be a waste of your talents and my time. No, instead you will not be graduating tomorrow. If anyone asks, it was Leona, Jean-Marie, and Jacques who carried out the assignment. You were unable to go at the time. I will also be giving you over to Lafayette to finish your training. I cannot train a murderer."

"I am not a murderer. I am an assassin."

"No. You are not."

Thomas was face to face with Saint-Just now. He slapped him on the cheek, and left the room. He stood there in shock, holding his hand to his raw cheek.

"Don't touch me, old man," said Saint-Just to no one.

"Sorry to hear all of that," said a voice from behind him.

"Excuse me?" asked Saint-Just. He turned to see Robespierre standing in the doorway. He came in and sat in Thomas' chair.

"The power that these men have at their fingertips, and yet they choose to do nothing with it."

"What do you mean?"

"These men here have a goal, and they have such immense power. And they have the power to reach out and grasp their goal, but they stay hidden away in the shadows."

"Tell me about it," said Saint-Just.

"Oh I will tell you about it, friend; that and much more."

The basement of Les Neuf Sœurs was accessible through a hidden door in the kitchen. It was shaped like a large square, built from granite stone. A red carpet started from the bottom of the stairs and led up to a raised section of the floor, which held a large brazier. It was usually stone cold, but on occasions like this one, it held a blazing fire in it. The torches were also lit, which made the pink stone along the walls glitter. All who were present at the lodge were down there, lining the walls of the room.

Billaud-Varenne and Herbois stood below the raised section of the floor, with Thomas and Louis-Philippe standing upon it. Thomas gave the address to the crowd.

"Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. These are the words spoken by our ancestors that lay at the heart of our creed. Where others blindly follow the truth, remember…"

"Nothing is true," the recruits responded.

"Where others are limited, by morality or law, remember…"

"Everything is permitted."

"We work in the dark, to serve the light. We are Assassins."

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted," resounded the crowd.

"You would do well, for the rest of your lives, to live to find the true meaning of our creed. It takes many years of study, but those who find their truth become better off for it. It does not grant exemption from the law or the responsibilities lay before us, it is to guide us; to help us transcend the illusions of this world."

Thomas looked at the recruits before him.

"Are you ready to join us?"

"We are," they said in unison.

Thomas removed a set of metal tongs from the fire. The tips of the tongs glowed in a white-orange color. Thomas motioned to Jacques, who stepped up first. He eyed the tongs as he outstretched his left ring finger. Thomas closed the tongs around his finger, and he winced loudly, looking at Thomas. Thomas held the tongs in place for several seconds before letting him go. Jean-Marie then stood up onto the platform. When the tongs released from his finger, he took a large bow to the crowd. 'You can take the assassin out of the theater, I suppose,' thought Thomas.

"We are not so extreme as our ancestors, but our mark is no less permanent." Each recruit felt of their fingers as he said this. Thomas looked above the heads of the recruits, looking at a banner that hung across the room. It bore a red Assassin insignia upon a white background. "Welcome to the brotherhood," he said.

The halls suddenly rang with echoes of cheering and shouting. The three were swarmed by the audience, and soon the basement was a large mass of indistinguishable assassins. Thomas joined Lafayette, who was leaning against a wall.

"Fine work," Lafayette said. "I hope that my daughter Anastasie will one day be your apprentice."

"Oh come now, I would expect that you would be apprenticing her."

"You know as well as I do that having your parent as your instructor is a bad idea. Emotions from both sides flare; the instructor not wanting the pupil to put their life in danger, the pupil not listening or not obeying, the typical nonsense."

"I apprenticed under my father, and I came out all right."

"And I apprenticed under Voltaire. He did fine by me."

"Well, we'll see when the time comes."

"Yes. She's not but twelve now." Both men looked on at the crowd. Happier faces could not have been seen on the new assassin's faces as they chattered amongst their new brethren. Almost no one noticed the figures of Robespierre and Saint-Just descending from the stairs and blending into the crowd. Almost.

The celebration party had gone far into the night and into the morning, and had moved up into the lodge, taking place all around the building. Thomas stood atop the staircase, off to the side of the crescent shape, leaning on the railing. Others were sipping at an assortment of drinks, but he had not imbibed. He kept his eyes down on the only other group which alcohol had not passed their lips; the group of Robespierre, Jean-Marie, Jacques, and Louis. Concerned, he stepped down the staircase and approached the group. They went silent upon his approach.

"How go things, my new assassins?" he asked.

"We are doing well, Monsieur Jefferson," said Herbois.

"That is good to hear," said Thomas

"Yes Thomas, I was just telling out newest members of my recent mission to Rome," said Robespierre.

"Really? Who was your target?" asked Jefferson.

"Charles Edward Stuart, the pretender to the thrones of England, Scotland, and Ireland. We had intelligence that he was planning another coup, and he hoped to use soldiers of Rome to help him in his goal."

"And everything went well?"

"I am still here, aren't I?" He laughed.

"Well, you four enjoy your night," said Thomas. He began to walk away.

"Oh Thomas, wait a moment," said Robespierre. Thomas stopped. "I am so glad that we have had these two become assassins." He motioned to Billaud-Varenne and Herbois. "But there was a third, was there not? My good friend Louis." He laid his hand upon Saint-Just's shoulder. "Why is it, Thomas, that Louis did not graduate tonight with the rest? They were being apprenticed together, no?" Thomas looked at Saint-Just, and he stared right back at him.

"Louis was unable to go at the time, something about a leg injury he sustained while on another mission. Whenever he is better, he should be ready."

"Oh, I'm sure. I hope you will work hard with him to get him where his friends are when the time comes."

"It won't be up to me. He has been reassigned to Lafayette."

"And why is that?"

"It is a secret that I have told no one of yet, but I am planning on returning home. It is becoming more and more dangerous for foreigners here."

"You are unfortunately correct, sir. These days, France needs to stand united, and all dissenters must be ripped out by the roots. Everyone must be united in our cause."

"Yes…" said Thomas, feeling uncomfortable. "Well, I need to be getting back home. My daughters are about to wake…" He was cut off by the sound of the doors being slammed shut behind him. Mirabeau had just come through the doors of the lodge, winded. Lafayette went to meet him.

"Friend! What has happened?" Mirabeau finally caught his breath.

"Peasants! Many of them! Marching towards Les Invalides!" Lafayette rested his hand upon his back.

"What does this mean? What do they hope to find there?" Mirabeau straightened up and caught his breath. He began to speak calmly but with a dire tone. All eyes in the lodge were upon him.

"Right now, a mass of peasants are on their way to Les Invalides, looking for arms and powder, and then they plan to march on the Bastille!"

"What caused this sudden outburst?" asked an assassin.

"The news flew through the market streets that the king had dismissed Necker, who favored the Third Estate. The peasants are arming themselves! They are being led by …" He was interrupted by the doors opening again. It was Camille Desmoulins, an assassin. "You!" said Mirabeau. He swung at him with a right hook, which Camille dodged. Lafayette took hold of Mirabeau.

"Come now, brother, now is not the time to start a brawl inside of here," said Lafayette.

"He provoked them! The same group of people that was at Palais-Royale! He got up on a table, told them that Necker's dismissal was a sign for things to come, and to arm themselves." All eyes were upon Desmoulins.

"Brother," said Lafayette "Is this true?"

"Yes," said Desmoulins.

"You know that we are not allowed to act directly in the politics of the city. We may influence others to do so, but the idea cannot come from us. We must remain impartial."

"I know it goes against custom," he spoke to the crowd, "but we must remember that we are a part of France itself. Whatever threatens her, threatens us all. Surely being assassins does not rob us of our patriotism, does it? It is time for us to take up arms in her defense, in whatever ways we can." Everyone turned to look at Louis-Philippe. He looked back, nervously thinking. His eyes darted from person to person until they came to rest on Thomas.

"Thomas! What does my most trusted advisor say?" After speaking, he blended back into the crowd. Thomas sighed.

'Most trusted advisor' he thought. 'I haven't seen five minutes of the man.' He then addressed the crowd. "I would suggest sir that we deal with this man's insubordination later. Everyone, it seems that events have been have set into motion that leave us with no choice but to act. I propose that all of our members, who are able, go out and join the peasants. Keep them safe, but do not do anything to provoke them. We need to know what is going on. The masses are headed to Les Invalides, so that is where you shall join them." He looked down at Billaud-Varenne and Herbois. "It will also give our newest members a good opportunity to see what it is that we do." The able-bodied members of the order started to make their way towards the entrance. Thomas caught Leona by her sleeve as she passed by.

"Keep your eyes open, and your wits about you. Mobs can do great and terrible things. All it takes is one little push. I will need you to give me a recount of everything that you see."

"Understood."

Chapter 9

Departure

July 14

"And then, the crowd dragged de Launay out into the prison courtyard, and tore him to pieces. They cut off his head and shoved it down on to a pike which was then placed upon the prison walls."

"Were any of ours involved?" asked Thomas.

"I ah, I don't think so. It was hard to maintain focus in the crowd. I felt like a part of it, yet so detached from it as the same time."

"What happened after that?"

"Then, the mob set upon the prison, freeing the prisoners. They then set upon the building itself, dismantling the very bricks at their feet. There was just so much wanton destruction surrounding me."

"So, this is the revolution that Lafayette spoke of so fondly."

Thomas sat with Lafayette that night in his home, the Hotel de Lafayette. They reclined in his living room.

"My god. They murdered the whole guard that was stationed there. Men who did nothing wrong but work there!" said Lafayette. "I knew de Launay!" Thomas nodded.

"It would seem that fear has claimed the hearts and minds of the people today, my good friend," said Thomas.

"I wonder how many of ours took part in the massacre." He massaged his forehead, mentally tired. The silence was broken by a sudden knock at the door. "Who could that be at this hour?" he said. He went to the door to open it. Thomas could hear the exchange of voices down the hallway, then the sound of the door shutting. Lafayette came back with a piece of parchment in his hand.

"It's a letter from the king," he said. He broke the seal from it and read down the lines of the script. He sat back once done with it and closed his eyes, not speaking.

"What does it say?" asked Thomas. Lafayette opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"Due to the activity at the Bastille, the king suspects that there will be more unrest in the days to come. Tomorrow, he will hold a ceremony, honoring me as the newly instated commander-in-chief of the newly established National Guard of France." Thomas sat back in his chair. The two men were silent for a long time.

"I haven't told anyone yet, but I believe it is time that I returned home," Thomas said, breaking the silence. Lafayette snapped to attention.

"Now? You wish to leave France now?"

"I know, I know, but Lafayette, this is not my home. Now there are people that are being killed for… for what exactly? Supporting the monarchy? I have brought my family into a warzone." Thomas got up from his chair. "I should be getting back to my house. It is very late" He walked towards the door, but Lafayette's words stopped him before he left.

"If that is what you wish Thomas, I can have your passport signed in the morning." Thomas walked back to him.

"Thank you, my good friend." Lafayette nodded, and Thomas walked back to the door and out onto the streets of Paris.

September 27

Lafayette brought the last of Thomas' bags out from the house to the carriage.

"I think that's it" said Thomas.

"Not quite," said Lafayette, and he pulled out some parchments from his coat pocket. "Some things to read, should you get bored looking at waves." The two men laughed. "First we have this, a copy of Abbé Sieyès' 'What is the Third Estate?'. Then, a copy of our own Desmoulins' 'La France Libre'. Quite an interesting read, if I do say so myself. And…" Lafayette handed him a leather case. "Our original draft of The Declaration of Rights of Man and Citizen. I thought it only proper that you should have it." Thomas took these gifts in his hands, and looked upon Lafayette with a smile.

"These are very appreciated, my good friend," said Thomas.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Lafayette dug into his pants pocket and withdrew a white piece of cloth. He handed it to Thomas, and he unveiled it to be an iron key. "This is a gift for General Washington."

"What is this key?" he asked.

"The Bastille; or what's left of it nowadays." Thomas tucked it into his shirt pocket. "Take it to him, and tell him that we wish to have peace with his country always." Thomas nodded.

"I also have presents for you, my friend," said Thomas. He went to his carriage and brought two books out to Lafayette. "From the Private Library of the Assassins in America. I had them brought over when Polly came to France."

"The Life of Voltaire, by Benjamin Franklin. And, Letters from the Villa Auditore, by Claudia Auditore. Ezio's sister? Interesting."

"You'll find what I've written in there even more interesting." A slip of paper fell from the Voltaire book on to the ground.

"Oh what's this?" said Lafayette, picking up the slip of paper. He saw it to be an envelope. The sight and sound of a horse approaching distracted Thomas.

"That… came from no library, my friend. I found it during some of my research here."

"What research?" asked Lafayette, but he was interrupted by Leona dropping from her horse.

"You didn't think you were going to leave without saying goodbye, did you?" she asked. She walked over to where the two were standing.

"No, no! How could I leave without saying goodbye to everyone?" asked Thomas. They hugged. "Now, I do have a four day journey ahead of me, so for now, I shall say goodbye, and I wish you the best of fortunes." Thomas climbed up into the carriage and whistled to the driver.

"Thomas," said Lafayette.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted you to know that you've been the best thing that's happened to this brotherhood. Before you came here, I believed that this brotherhood was about fail. With your three years of work now, I believe that we have a fighting chance to end this tyranny." Thomas smiled down at him, and was given one in return.

"Keep vigilant in the acquisition of the Apple. Read the letter," he said. With a flick of the whip, the horse pulled off, leaving Lafayette and Leona in the dust. After he was out of eyesight, Lafayette nodded at Leona. She got upon her horse and trotted after him.

October 1

Thomas stepped out near the docks of the port city of Le Havre. Having paid the driver, he unloaded his luggage and made his way to the Hermione, the ship that he had come in on. Standing before the gangway were his two daughters and his slaves, Sally and James Hemings.

"Ready to go?" he asked them on approach.

"Yes father," said Martha.

"Well, America's not getting any closer. We should be off." He walked up the ramp to the ship and stood at the top, motioning to the others to come. His daughters went up first, then James. "James, I hope you will remember your culinary training that you've received here," he said.

"Yessir," James replied. Sally came up next.

"Sally," said Thomas. She nodded her head and smiled. Thomas smiled very small, but then it vanished.

"Sir," the captain said to Thomas, "Are we all accounted for?"

"Yes, we can head out whenever you are ready," said Thomas. As Thomas and family approached the cabin doors, they opened to reveal a white-headed, hunched-back Ben Franklin, walking up the steps He exited the doors with a cane under his left hand. Thomas' eyes lit up when he saw him.

"Ben!" he exclaimed.

"Thomas," said Ben. He suddenly bent over and coughed violently into a handkerchief. Thomas went to his side to keep him steady. He looked into the handkerchief and saw blood.

"You shouldn't have come on this journey, my oldest friend," said Thomas.

"Come now Thomas, I wished to see France one more time," said Ben. "Also, you look like you could have used some company on the return jouney," he said with a smile.

"Come, let's go inside." They all went below deck, and the captain gave the order to cast off. The sails were let loose, and a breeze that almost came from nowhere carried the ship out to the foaming waves of the ocean.

As Thomas was approaching the ship with his luggage, a man eyed him from the docks. He pulled a knife from his vest and began to make his way towards him, but was held back by Leona's hand. She covered the man's mouth and plunged her hidden blade into his neck, then pulled him back behind a corner. Leona then looked on as Thomas disappeared below deck. She climbed to the top of the building she was standing next to and watched the Hermione until it slipped out of view on the horizon.

Lafayette sat forward in his chair, looking over the books that Thomas had left him. His eyes scrolled down each page, noting the black ink where Thomas had written something in the margins. The last item that he read was the letter that was inside the Voltaire book. It was dated February 17th, 1770. Lafayette read the first line aloud.

"To the Mentor," he read aloud. He read down the rest of the letter in silence, until he got to the last line. At the bottom of the letter Thomas had written out the name "Olivatré" in capital letters, and then wrote something below it. Looking over it, Lafayette was somewhat surprised. He laid the letter down and reclined.

"Mon Dieu, Thomas."

Part 2:

Egalité

Chapter 10

Bread, Swords, and Apples

October 5th

Leona was greeted by Lafayette as she returned very early that morning to the lodge.

"Did everything go well?" he asked.

"Yes. Well, almost," she said. Lafayette sighed.

"I thought that they would let him leave peacefully. What happened?"

"I caught a man who was going to go after Thomas with a knife as he boarded the ship."

"And you stopped him?"

"No one even knew he was gone."

"And Thomas?"

"Safe aboard and unaware of the danger." Lafayette smiled at this.

"These Templars will never get assassination right. They should leave it to the experts." Leona smiled as well. "So, you are not too tired?"

"No. I am very much up to the task," she said.

"Thomas' master plan. Well, there it is." He pointed to a drum that hung next to the door by a leather strap. Leona threw it over her shoulder and the drum came to rest at her side. "Do you remember what the mission goals are?"

"Primary concern is the recovery of the Apple. We will do this under the cover of the mob that we drive towards Versailles. Once we get there, I will lead a small group that will break off from the crowd, infiltrate the palace, and locate the Apple."

"You need to meet with our brother Maillard to go over specifics. He volunteered as chief instigator." She nodded.

"And what are you doing throughout this ordeal?"

"As the commander of the National Guard, I can't openly support this, but I will not tell my men to fire upon civilians. The gates to the palace courtyard might also be mysteriously unlocked, as well as a window which you could enter through." Leona chuckled.

"Good. I suppose that I should be off, then."

"Yes. Take a cloak as well; it looks like it's about to rain." She grabbed one from the rack next to the doors.

"I can't believe that we are taking such a direct role in the city's politics!" she said.

"Neither can I, Leona."

The weather had grown more inclement that day, and on approach to the East Paris markets, Leona's foot sank into a mud hole up to her ankle. She was thankful that the standard gear issued to assassins included knee-high leather boots as she pulled her leg from the mud. She looked at the sight before her; wet, sloppy villagers all in a large crowd, brandishing cutting knives and cleavers, and whatever else that could be made into a weapon. She struggled to find Maillard, not wishing to enter the large crowd in front of her, but she finally relented. In the middle of the crowd, she tripped over someone's foot, and was caught by the shoulder by a strong hand.

"What do we have here?" said the man who caught her. She flicked her hidden blade out, expecting trouble. "You may want to put that away sister, lest you attract the wrong type of attention," said Maillard. He pulled her up and she retracted her hidden blade.

"Sorry, brother," she said.

"It's fine. Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then I will start the speech. You should get on the east side of the crowd and start there. My key word that I finish with will be 'ears', so start then." She nodded, and he parted his way through the crowds and found an overturned cart that had been unhitched from a horse. He climbed atop of it and yelled over the rain to the crowd. "Citizens of Paris! Today has been a long day coming…" His words became less audible to Leona as shouts of agreement rang through the mob. She stood at the east side of the crowd and could only make out bits and pieces of what Maillard was saying. She slung her drum from her shoulder to her neck, and removed a pair of drumsticks from her trousers. She strained to hear, but she eventually heard Maillard say, "Now let's show them what a united people of Paris can do, and bring that palace of iniquity down amongst their ears!" She started to play a slow, staccato beat from her drum. Many heads turned from Maillard to her. He noticed this, and took his chance.

"To Versailles!" he shouted.

"To Versailles! To Versailles!" repeated the crowd.

"To Versailles," said Leona, and she made her way with Maillard to the front of the crowd.

Leona could feel the hatred around her. It hung in the air like a cloud, fueling the crowd's restlessness. The mob took up the entire Versailles Palace courtyard, which was about seventy feet across and one-hundred feet in length, ending in the palace doors. The morning had been dark as the crowd waited for the envoys to emerge from the meeting within the palace. Eventually, the doors were flung open, and the people stepped out and rejoined the crowd. Soon, word spread that the king had granted the royal stores to be opened to distribute food among the people of Paris. Some members of the mob thought their goals met, and began making their way back to Paris, but the majority remained, unconvinced. Leona began to move through the crowd and caught up with Maillard, who had spoken with the king.

"What did you find?" she asked.

"The king has the Apple on his person. He said that he will soon address the crowd, and I think he intends to use it on us," said Maillard.

"Then I should be off," she said. "Stay safe." Leona moved through the crowd, gathering what assassins she could find. She found five; Colette, Nicole, and Eloise, her best friend. The other two she did not know that well, but had seen them around the lodge.

"Here is the plan. You three," motioning to the girls she knew, "will accompany me in infiltrating the palace through a rear window that Lafayette has left unlocked for us. And you two," she said to the assassins whom she did not know too well, "need to make your way through the crowd, up to the front of the mob. Any questions?"

The assassin named Rochelle spoke up.

"At the front? Why?"

"Because," Leona said with a smile, "we are going to let all of you in."

A guard walked through the halls of Versailles, his concentration fixed on the outside situation. As he walked by a room, he noticed the window was ajar. Going to close it, he saw a hand reach up through it. The hand caught him in the chest, and closed in a fist around his clothing, dragging him through the open window. He felt a tiny blade leave his chest as he fell, and his world went dark as his neck met the ground, three stories below. Leona then jumped up through the window and helped the other three through. They seemed to be in a room which housed many paintings of the king.

"Very good," said Leona, closing the window. Now, we will be splitting up even further. Nicole, you need to go open the doors and let the mob in. No doubt it will be heavily guarded, and that's why you, Colette, causing a diversion so that she won't be in any danger from the guards. Maybe smash some vases, lead the guards on a chase, you can think of something. Eloise, I want you to come with me in search of the Apple. We will meet back outside this window with Lafayette when we are done."

"Understood," replied everyone.

"Ready? Let's go."

Leona opened the door slowly to see another guard walking by, his back to her. Flicking her hidden blade out, she ran at him and struck him in the neck with precision. She carried his body back to their entry room, dead. Before the other girls left, Leona spoke to them and grabbed for something in her belt pouch.

"Here, take these. Hand mirrors for seeing around long corners. Let's try and keep this as quiet as possible for as long as we can."

Nicole and Colette snuck over to a corner and peered around it using their mirrors. Satisfied, they disappeared around the corner in pursuit of their goal. Leona blinked, and her Eagle Sense came into her vision. She found a golden trail that decorated the palace floors and followed it, peering around every corner with her mirror, keeping her footsteps light and ears perked. After rounding many corners like the first, the two stopped to listen to hurried footsteps and voices around another corner.

"In here, stay in here, my love. There is a passage behind the bookcase. You will have to push it aside. It leads to my room. It is the safest in the castle."

"What are you going to do?!" cried a shrill voice.

"I will do my best to hold them off, buy you some time to escape."

"Wait, where is the…"

"Hush, no more talk. Now go. Hide with the children."

Leona heard the sound of breaking and smashing, as well as some shouts from the guards echo through the halls. Not much time, she thought. She lowered her hood over her eyes and stepped around the corner. Noticing that Louis was walking toward the palace entrance, she took a great bow and announced her presence.

"My king, how do you do on this fine day?"

Louis turned around with a jump, and then scowled at the sight before him.

"Assassin!" he shouted. He removed from his robes the Apple. It was a golden, spherical object with archaic engravings throughout it. It was a little larger than the fruit that it was named for. He held it out, pointing it at Leona. The engravings began to light up and flashes of light shot from the sphere towards her, but it did her no harm. "Piece of junk," he said, thrusting it back inside his robes. "Are you here to claim my life?" he asked angrily.

"No my king, we are more interested in that golden orb that you wield so readily."

"Well you can't have it. It's mine, mine to wield! I am king, don't you see! My rule is ordained by God!"

"I've never liked the combination of church and state myself," said Leona.

"If you want it so badly assassin," he said, grabbing a sword from the wall, "then come and take it!" Eloise stepped around the corner with her sword drawn but Leona held her back.

"Ah, sir, I believe that right now, they are a bigger problem" she said, pointing behind him. Louis turned to see a great storm of women flooding the entire width of the hallway, all of them screaming and sporting some sharp object. As they ran towards them, Louis withdrew the Apple from his robes and held it at them. Leona took this chance, and snatched the Apple out of his hand.

"A thousand curses on you!" he screamed. Outnumbered and without his weapon, he retreated into the door he had come from. Leona wrapped the Apple in a large white cloth and tied it to her belt. Satisfied, she and Eloise maneuvered her way through the crowds and exited through the front doors of the palace. She circled to the back and found her fellow assassins gathered near the window they had entered.

"Nicole, Colette, you played your parts perfectly! Well done! And Eloise, thank you for your support in our little snare."

"Snare? What happened?" asked Nicole.

"We had a confrontation with the King. But we now have found the Apple," she said, removing the cloth from her robes. The window where they had entered opened above them.

"Girls!" said Lafayette from the window.

"Lafayette!" said Leona. "There's a body of a guard in that room. What shall we do about it?"

"It seems that the women have killed their fair share of guards in the palace. One out of place body will not arouse too much suspicion. The king is quite upset, though." He looked down at the sling of cloth in Leona's hand. "You have the Apple. Good."

"Yes. I took it from the hands of the king as he was about to use it on the mob."

"You had a direct confrontation with the king?! You must avoid any such incidences in the future! Remember that he knows who you are when you wear your royal clothes."

"He also knows you, brother," she said. "And it turns out we didn't have a choice. He kept it on his person."

"Very well. I am just glad that you succeeded and are fine." Leona smiled and nodded at this. "The Apple?" he asked, hand outstretched.

"Here," she said. She knotted the piece of cloth and slung it up to him. Catching it, he untied the knot, inspected it, and then tucked it inside of his coat pocket.

"What a large price to pay for something so seemingly insignificant," he remarked. He then leaned out the window. "I must do some damage control now, so I will be back later this night," he said. "Debrief at the lodge at nine."

"Keep safe, brother," said Leona.

"To you as well," he said. With that, Lafayette closed the window and slid the lock into place. The girls then rounded back to the front of the palace, and then found their horses that Lafayette had left them a little way away from the palace gates. They mounted their horses, and then began the trip back to Paris.

Chapter 11

The Apple

After the storming of Versailles, Lafayette had returned to the lodge that night. He rolled the Apple along his desk from one hand to another. 'It's time to tell her,' he thought. He walked out of his office and motioned to an assassin.

"Sir?" asked the assassin.

"Could you send for Leona?"

"At once." Lafayette returned to his office and continued rolling the Apple back and forth between his hands. There was a knock on his door, but it was not Leona that entered, but Robespierre. The Apple came to rest in Lafayette's left hand.

"Sir," said Robespierre.

"Ah, hello Robespierre."

"I heard that we were successful this day. I wanted to come by and congratulate you personally."

"Oh, thank you."

"So, that was our prize?" said Robespierre, eyeing the Apple.

"Yes," said Lafayette, holding it up.

"I am afraid that I know very little of these 'Pieces of Eden.' Where did they come from?"

"They were artifacts that were used by the First Civilization, the ones that created the human race. They used them to keep us under control."

"Fascinating," he said. "May I see it?" said Robespierre, hand outstretched.

"Sure." He dropped the Apple in Robespierre's hand. He looked down at the books and letter that Thomas had left him. "Now, I am expecting Leona in a little bit, so…" His eyes looked up at Robespierre, who had a devilish grin on his face. The Apple glowed with a white hot intensity in his hands. Lafayette tried to turn away, but no muscle in his body would move. The Apple flashed in Robespierre's hands, and Lafayette became pressed up in to the back of his chair. As the Apple glowed, Lafayette became an observer, trapped in his own body. Robespierre sat down in the chair across from his. There was a knock on the door again.

"Now, let's not tell anyone about this," he said. The command washed over Lafayette like cool water. Robespierre placed the Apple in Lafayette's hand. "Come in!" he said. Leona walked through the door. "Leona! I was just congratulating Lafayette on the success of the mission. And I hear that you were the one that wrestled the Apple from the king's hand. That was very brave of you."

"Oh thank you, but I was just doing what anyone would've done," said Leona. She turned to Lafayette. "You wished to see me?" Robespierre looked at Lafayette and slightly shook his head. Lafayette felt the command upon him.

"I… ah… no. I did not. Sorry."

'Idiot!' Lafayette screamed to himself. He pulled whatever will power he had left within him together. His left hand would not obey him; it was fully locked under the Apple's control. With his right hand he began to scrawl something upon the paper before him. He began tapping on it after he had finished.

"Oh. Ah, sorry, then," said Leona.

"It was good seeing you," said Robespierre. She nodded, and then exited the room, closing the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, Robespierre plucked the Apple out of Lafayette's hand. His eyes noticed the words that Lafayette had written upon the paper. He then spun the paper around to where he could read it. "Leona Help Me He's Using The Apple Kill Him" He crumpled the paper and put it in his pocket. "Certainly not the most elegant thing you've ever written. However, judging by that, I think that you probably need a little more." Robespierre held the Apple out to him again. Lafayette could not take his eyes off the glowing etch marks. It called out to him, irresistibly, to give in to full control. A streak of lightning extended from the Apple and touched Lafayette upon the forehead. At this, Lafayette's eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped down into his chair. The Apple dimmed in Robespierre's hand. "How are you feeling?" he asked Lafayette. Lafayette blinked and his eyes rolled forward. Sitting up, he stretched out his arms and yawned.

"I'm feeling fine. How are you?"

"I'm doing well," said Robespierre. "Play the cello." Lafayette's hands grabbed out at the air, mimicking the placement of someone who was playing the cello.

"Any requests?" he asked.

"Sure. Carmina Burana, O Fortuna." Lafayette began to play his imaginary cello at his command. Robespierre sat back and smiled. "Oh, we will have fun with this." Lafayette smiled at him as he continued to play. Inside his mind, Lafayette wandered through an impenetrable darkness, unable to find a way out. "You may stop now." Lafayette's hands came to rest in his lap. "Now, if anyone asks, you gave the Apple to me for study. You may continue normally with your life and your duties as an assassin, but you may not tell anyone about this. You are going to obey me. Am I understood?" Lafayette nodded his head. Robespierre eyed the letter that Thomas had given to Lafayette. "Give me that," he commanded Lafayette. He handed it to him, and Robespierre read down the lines of the letter. He also read the writing Thomas had made in the margins. "And you all have kept this secret from her?" he asked.

"I was waiting for the right time," said Lafayette.

"But really, is there ever really a right time to tell someone this?"

"No, there isn't."

"So we should not tell her, yes?"

"Correct."

"Good. Now I must be going." Robespierre tucked the Apple into his coat pocket and went for the door, but then glanced back at Lafayette. He was staring straight ahead at the wall, not blinking. "Well get back to work now! Do I need to tell you to do everything?" Lafayette began looking over his books again, and wrote notes down on paper. Robespierre nodded, and then took his leave of him.

1791

June 17

She couldn't place what it was exactly, but Leona saw that there was something wrong with Lafayette. Sometimes she would find him sitting, just staring at a wall, a characteristic that was unusual for him. He was not the man that she remembered, so fiery about the revolution. He would still instruct the assassins, but his fervor was gone. She saw in him a sickness, not of the body, but of the mind; apathy. She tested him one day.

"Lafayette, will you tell me the stories of your training under Voltaire?" Leona knew that Lafayette always loved talking about his former teacher.

"No, I don't think so. You've heard all my stories already," he replied. Leona was concerned.

"Brother, you've been in contact with the Apple for almost a year now. I've done some reading about the Pieces of Eden. They say that long exposure to any of them can lead to anomalies in behavior, perhaps even… insanity."

"Well you have nothing to fear then, my dear. I have not held the Apple since the day we took it from Versailles."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I have given the Apple to Robespierre for study. He hopes to crack the secrets of the device, and learn what the king had intended to do with it."

"But we knew what the king wanted to use it for. He hoped to bend the minds of the people to his will."

"I…" stammered Lafayette, "have given the Apple to Robespierre for study."

"I think I know who I need to talk to, then." Later, she found Robespierre in one of the study rooms of the lodge. He was hunched over a table, writing. "Brother, I need to talk to you about Lafayette." Robespierre raised his head with a scowl on his face, but when he turned to Leona, he was all smiles.

"You are wondering about his demeanor, no?"

"Yes, how did you…"

"It's my job to know these things, sister. If I made a guess, it would be that he is going through a time in his life when he realizes that he is not going to live forever. He may feel unfulfilled with his life, and this causes him grief."

"He's only thirty-four."

"Well, everyone is different. I cannot predict when a single man goes through this time period."

"But he's done so much with his life. He's had a distinguished career in the military, he helped the colonies win their revolution, and he's an assassin. And, on top of all of that, he has a family; a wife, a son, and two daughters. It doesn't make sense that he's acting this way, no matter which way you look at it."

"I don't know what to tell you, sister. Like I said, everyone is different. He may want something more."

"He had told me that he had given the Apple to you for study. What…"

"Yes, the Apple!" he said, drawing it from his pocket. "I am sorry to report that I have found out very little on its operation. I have found that if you do this," he said, pushing on a circle inscribed on to the surface, "that a light erupts from it." Robespierre held it out to her. The Apple glowed with the same intensity Leona had seen when she took it from the king. Stretches of lightning began to dance from it, flashing around the room.

"Careful!" said Leona, covering up the golden orb with a cloth. "That's the exact same way that it looked when the king tried to use it against me." Robespierre was taken aback that Leona had not been affected.

"I… really… I will take more precautions in the future," he said, tucking it back into his coat. "I am sorry, but I must return to my work, I'm sure that Lafayette will return to us. He just needs time," he said, turning his back on her.

"Oh. Well then, I will see you later, brother."

"Yes." As soon as Leona was gone, Robespierre exited the study room and went to Lafayette's office. He was sitting in his chair, just staring at the wall. Robespierre closed the door and sat down across from him. "Mon Dieu, you look like a zombie." Lafayette turned to him.

"Sorry," he said.

"You know that Leona is concerned with you? She just came by and began asking why you are acting this way. And did you know that she was immune to the Apple's effects?"

"Yes."

"And why did you not tell me?"

"Because you did not ask."

"Idiot."

"I meant no inconvenience."

"Well, you certainly have been. One big pile of inconveniences" Robespierre rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "You know, you are tired of this revolution," he said to Lafayette, with a tone of suggestion.

"I am tired of this revolution," repeated Lafayette.

"The people don't like you. They don't know whether you work for their interests or the king's."

"The people don't like me. They don't know whether I work for their interests or the king's."

"But most importantly, you have a family to take care of."

"But most importantly, I have a family to take care of."

"They come before you."

"They come before me."

"And for that reason, you are leaving France and journeying to America, for the safety of your family."

"And for that reason, I am leaving France and journeying to America, for the safety of my family."

"Good," said Robespierre, breaking his suggestive tone. "I have one last mission for you to give to Leona. It seems that the king is trying to flee from the Tuileries Palace later this week." He withdrew a letter from his pocket and threw it at Lafayette. He read over it quickly.

"It shall be done," said Lafayette. Robespierre left the room and could hear Lafayette calling for Leona as he walked further away.

June 20

Jean-Baptiste Drouet had finished making his postal rounds for that evening, and was headed back to the postmaster's office. Once there, he unhooked the horses and brought them to the stables. He went and brought them water from the well and got them fresh hay, and while they ate and drank he brushed them all down. Once finished, he returned to the inside the post office. The inside seemed still.

"How goes things Gérard? Everything quiet?" Drouet hollered. He heard a loud coughing noise, and the large figure of Gérard Frondeaux emerged.

"Mostly, Drouet. Just waiting for you to get back."

"Oh, you needn't do that. You have a wife to get home to."

"That I do. But I stayed because a letter came in." Drouet was puzzled.

"At this hour? Did you recognize the deliverer?"

"No sir. She wore a white hood, and she spoke very little. The letter is addressed to you." Gérard procured the latter and handed it to Drouet.

"Ah, what did she look like?"

"Will you shut up and open the damned thing? I've been waiting over an hour to see."

"Fine."

"There's something bouncing around in there. Felt like a small piece of metal." Drouet opened it with a knife at one end, and an écu coin fell onto the wood floor with a loud thump, face down. The two looked down at it with curiosity.

"Anything else in there?" asked Gérard, picking up the coin. Drouet slid out a piece of paper that was folded in half once. He read it silently, and upon finishing it, he grabbed a chair to sit down in. Gérard looked at him with worry.

"What's wrong, my friend? You look like you've seen the devil." Drouet looked up at him with a look of seriousness and read the letter aloud.

"The one who bears the resemblance on this coin makes for the borders of our country as we speak. Seek him along the route to Austria. This information has been trusted to you. Please, do not disappoint."

Gérard flipped the coin over in his hand.

"The one who bears the resemblance… Gérard, give me the coin." He handed it to him. Drouet studied the face of the coin intently.

"You don't think this means that the king is making for the border, do you?"

"I don't know, but I know what that symbol means." Gérard looked at the symbol at the bottom of the note.

"It can't be. The assassins are just a story that parents tell to frighten children. They're not real."

"But what if they are? What if they are asking us to do this?" Drouet let out a sigh.

"No, what we should do is report this."

"Gérard, I am in no mood to make any assassin angry."

"Then what are we going to do?" Drouet stood up and buttoned his jacket.

"You, my friend, are going to go home to your wife. As for myself, I make for the town of Varennes right away." Before he walked through the door, he turned to Gérard. "Gérard?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"Never tell anyone about this night." He then disappeared through the doorway.

Leona kept her horse in the woods next to the road. She had sat down among the trees, listening to the sounds of nature happening all around her. The sound of the cricket song surrounded her, but was interrupted by the sound of a galloping horse coming towards her. Soon it was in view, galloping in the direction of Varennes. She stayed silent, and remained that way for a while after the sounds of the galloping horse faded in the distance. Satisfied, she mounted her own horse, and, leading it onto the road, started on the long road back to Paris.

Chapter 12

Cleaning House: Part 1

Lafayette had left France. Still in the grasp of the Apple, he decided that leaving would be the safest thing for him and his family, despite the ineffective protests from Leona. However, not everything that was implanted by Robespierre was untrue. Support dwindled for anyone affiliated with the monarchy and August 1792, he left. His plans included going up into Britain, then boarding passage to America, but things did not go as planned. As he was crossing through Belgium, he was taken into custody by an Austrian general, for the changing of politics in France had caught the Holy Roman Emperor's attention. Fearing that his sister, Marie Antoinette, the queen, was in danger, he along with Frederick William II of Prussia declared that if any harm come to the royal family that there would be dire consequences. The newly birthed French Republic declared war on Austria first, and on April 20, 1792, the battle lines were drawn.

After hearing of his capture, Leona contacted Jefferson, seeking aid. He replied that he would try to negotiate the release of Lafayette, but the deliberations might take a very long time. He also advised her to leave Paris, because at this point, news of the civil unrest in France had spread across the world. Peasants roamed the streets, calling themselves the Sans-Culottes. They became a vigilante justice-style police force, killing nobles on sight for their suspected affiliations. She decided to stay, determined to help the people of France through these dark times.

1793

January 20

"Leona, are you with us?" asked Robespierre. She jerked to attention. She had been thinking of the France she had known years earlier, a peaceful place, if not for an oppressive king.

"Sorry," she said.

"We need your focus here," said Robespierre.

"Yes. Sorry." She looked around at Herbois, Billaud-Varenne, and Saint-Just, who had since been promoted to assassin rank by his new instructor, Robespierre. Robespierre had since been promoted through the order, taking on many of the responsibilities of Lafayette. "As I was saying, you have been selected for you all demonstrate the capability to carry out whatever task is set out before you." He took a map from his coat and spread it across the table. "The Place de la Révolution." The assassins scooted their chairs so to see the entirety of the map. "As you already know, the king is to be executed here. You four will be placed throughout the crowd here," he pointed to the north part of the map, "here," he pointed to the eastern part of the map, "here," he pointed to the western part of the map, "and here," he said, pointing to the southern part.

"What is our mission?" asked Herbois.

"This is less of a mission, Jean, and more of a security issue. While it is very improbable, there are possibilities that the king might be rescued by his supporters before he is executed. If this happens, you four must step in and take his life." Those words hung like a cloud over the assassin's heads.

"Kill the king?" asked Billaud-Varenne.

"Again, it's only a backup, but yes," said Robespierre.

"You realize what you ask of us, right?" asked Herbois. He was upright out of his chair. "We'd be torn apart by the crowd once the deed is done!"

"You have taken oaths-" started Robespierre, but Leona finished his sentence.

"Vows, that you will sacrifice your life in service to the brotherhood."

"True, very true," said Robespierre. Herbois returned to his chair.

"I should have remembered," he said curtly. "I am sorry for my outburst."

"It is quite alright. We've been under a great deal of stress these past few months," said Robespierre. Everyone sat back, encompassed in their own thoughts. "Any further questions?" The three men were quiet.

"One," said Leona.

"Yes?"

"When?"

"Tomorrow. Noon."

January 21

The crowd had already amassed around the guillotine, and Leona felt invisible within it. She thought of the reason why so many had come to witness the death of the king. Bloodlust, she thought originally, but then she considered how often a king was executed by the will of a people.

'This is what they have accomplished,' she thought. 'Amazing, how the strength of a united people can change the course of history.' Her thoughts were broken by the sounds of cheering and clapping off to her left, which then rippled throughout the crowd. The sight of Louis' carriage brought the crowd's mumblings into a roar. She could feel a nervous tension coursing through her entire body; a tension that she was not alone in feeling. It ran rampant throughout the crowd.

'Never harbor hate for your enemies,' Lafayette had told her. 'It takes you down a terrible path, which will only lead to your own destruction.' She tried to center herself, but found it difficult. Leona looked up at the man who was on the platform. She felt no hatred for him anymore, only pity. He had been born into this life; he had not chosen it. His actions had been determined for him long before he had even been conceived. She knew this all too well, as no one leaves her order until death releases them. Louis started speaking to the crowd, but everything had gone silent for Leona; she could only see his lips moving. She saw that the executioner signaled the drum roll as Louis was still talking. Louis became distracted, but remained undaunted. He gave a nod when he was finished speaking, and he proceeded to the back of the guillotine. The executioner then pushed Louis down on to a board and strapped him to it, his neck protruding just far above the board so the blade could catch it. He then slid Louis forward and brought the lunette over the back of his neck, securing him in place. The executioner then took his place by the side of it. She saw the drums stop, the executioner pull the lever, and the blade fall into its position at the bottom of the crossbar. Crimson flecks flew into the crowd. The people roared, some jumping and dancing, but Leona stayed completely still. Looking at the front, she saw men and women start to rush the scaffold, grabbing their handkerchiefs to dab at the blood flowing from the basket that held Louis' head.

"Repose en paix, Citoyen Capet" she whispered. Her mission concluded, she turned and walked away silently through the roaring crowd.

Chapter 13

Cleaning House: Part 2

The city was oddly quiet that evening, Leona noticed. She had climbed to the top of the Notre Dame Cathedral, and sat between the North and South bell towers, right above the stain glass window the church had become famous for. She would come up here sometimes to escape the confines of her daily life, and found that gazing across the city brought her a sense of calm. It was a sign of a good assassin to be able to scale the outside of buildings, as to escape any pursuers easily. She thought about what she had witnessed today, and what must be done now. The liberation of Lafayette crossed her mind. 'The brotherhood in America will help me; they must,' she thought. She stayed there a little while longer atop the tower, until the last streaks of red sunlight were gone from the horizon. She got up, and, first looking over the edge to find footing, started her descent downwards. After she reached the bottom, she found her horse where she had left it; grazing in a cart of hay. She mounted it and began trotting back toward the lodge.

As the front of the lodge came into view, she could tell that something was wrong. Three hooded figures stood in front of the entrance, swords drawn. She brought her horse to a stop right before the courtyard of the lodge.

"Who goes there?" she shouted. She heard the noise of footsteps along the roof behind her. She readied her mind for the ensuing fight. The figures in front of the lodge began moving toward her, swords held high.

The figure on the building first made a dive for Leona, hoping to catch her unawares. Leona anticipated the attack and caught the figure in the stomach with her hidden blade, throwing herself as well as the attacker onto the ground. The ground figures were in a full run toward her now. She plunged her blade into her attacker's neck, then stood up and drew her sword. The first figure, a male, took a horizontal swing at her. She ducked and kicked him in the groin. He fell onto his back, bent in pain. Her next attacker, another male, came at her downwardly with his sword. As he came down, she grabbed his hand and flipped his body back behind hers. The last attacker, a female, stabbed at her stomach, which she dodged to her left, and then ran her own sword through the woman. She screamed, fell to her knees, and slumped to her side. Leona noticed her other attackers slowly regaining their balance. They both formed a circle around her, slowly encroaching ever closer to her. She stopped where she was and closed her eyes. She used her other senses to branch out and feel her attackers. She could sense the space each man took up as they both walked in circles around her. She felt each breath, each footstep, as if they sent waves off of their bodies with each movement. She opened her eyes and threw her sword away from her. The two took this opportunity as an opening and attacked at the same time. As their swords came closer and closer, she let herself fall down to the ground and avoided their attacks. The men's swords did not miss flesh though. The swords found themselves embedded; one in one man's shoulder, and the other in the other man's side. Leona then whirled around with her legs, tripping both men. She rose up, and then thrust her hidden blade through each man's neck. Leona looked around the gruesome scene.

"Have the Sans-Culottes become so bold now? Four on one, a fair fight indeed," she shouted at the bodies. She walked over to her sword and re-sheathed it. As she made her way towards the entrance, she heard the groans of the woman who had attacked her on the ground. She turned around, leering. She walked over to her body and flipped the woman over, drawing her sword. She held it to her neck, crouching down and over her body.

"I would see your face before ending your life." She flipped the woman's hood over, and the sight made her blood curdle. Her sword clanged against the walkway.

"Nicole?!" It was Nicole; one of the assassins who had helped her during the march on Versailles. Her face was etched with pain and sorrow, and tears were streaming from her eyes as she looked up at Leona. She was trembling, laboring for each breath.

"I'm… so sorry… Leona…"

"No!"

Leona ripped of a piece of her cloak and pressed it into Nicole's wound. Nicole's tunic was already drenched in blood.

"He… made us…."

"Shhh! Don't talk!"

"No, you… you need... to know…"

"Shhh! Stop, now!"

"He made us! With white hot fire in his hands!" There was terror in Nicole's eyes. Leona nodded sadly and understood. Nicole took a sharp breath inward, breathed out slowly, and went still. Leona saw as the last glimmer of life left her eyes. Hot tears started to form in hers. She immediately got up to inspect the men's bodies. Francois and Dominique; two assassins that she had known. She went over to her first attacker and flipped back her hood. The sight made her stumble back; the cold eyes of Colette stared sharply into the sky. She tried to return to her feet, but her legs turned to jelly. The world seemed to be made of liquid to her. She wandered into a nearby alley, leaned up against the wall, and vomited. She then slid down against the wall and wept profusely. She stayed there for a long time, not knowing how much time had passed when she finally got to her feet. She walked to Colette and drew her hand over her eyes, and then did the same for Francois, Dominique, and Nicole. Her hand then came to her sword hilt. She picked it up off the ground, not sheathing it as she made her way to the doors of the lodge.

Leona kicked in the doors of Les Neuf Sœurs, sword in hand, tears and fire flowing from her eyes. Oddly enough, the lodge looked like nothing had happened outside. She was bewildered to see assassins bustle about normally, looking like they hadn't noticed the events that had just occurred outside.

"Welcome, Leona. Come back to face your judgment?" She looked up to see the smiling figure of Robespierre leaning on the banister.

"Get down here," said an angry Leona.

"Oh, no, I think you need to follow me," he said. Robespierre turned and walked into the dining room, and she followed him up the stairs. She pulled open the doors to a most peculiar sight. Around the dining table sat mannequins, or at least that's what she thought they were at first. She then realized that assassins were occupying the chairs, seemingly frozen. At the head of the table sat Robespierre, and behind him, sitting on the floor against the left wall was Philippe, looking dazed. "What…" she said weakly.

"Confused?" asked Robespierre. "That is easily remedied. All that is needed is a little enlightenment." From his robes, he brought the Apple and laid it upon the table, tossing it back and forth between his hands.

"But…"

"Is it shocking? Yes, I suppose it would be."

"Wait, why? Why now?" she asked exasperatedly.

"I guess you could call it an extreme sense of patriotism. Under your father and Lafayette, we would not use this item to cure the city's diseases. It would be locked away, never to be used to further our goals. So I took it from him, realizing what this item is."

"And what is it, then?" Leona asked angrily. Robespierre caught it in his right hand.

"A gift." He stared straight into the Apple. It glowed brightly and made a sharp flash. "This trinket, this Apple, can bring meekness to the powerful; humility to the proud; determination to the hesitant; and strength to the weak." Louis-Philippe let out a groan.

"Leona, run! Quickly!" he said.

"Quiet, old man!" shouted Robespierre, and flashes of light erupted from the Apple to Louis-Philippe's head. He grunted, and then went silent; into a state that resembled sleep.

"Father!" Leona screamed. Robespierre turned to her.

"Father? Father, father, father, father, father." Leona looked at him, confused. He got up from the table and started to make his way toward her, chuckling. "Daddy's little secret," he said.

"What do you speak of?" she asked.

"Unimportant now, trust me." He was in front of her now.

"You've taken the minds of the others then. Why was I spared?"

"In truth, you weren't supposed to be. That day, when you came asking about Lafayette, I tried to take your mind, but it seems that you are immune to the effects of the Apple. Genetics or anomalies, no one knows. However, one thing remains true; they must be either assimilated… or exterminated." He motioned over to the corner of the room. She turned her head and saw the body of Eloise. She had a wound through her stomach, the blood drenching her clothes around it. She had dried blood around her mouth, and her eyes stared blankly at the opposite wall of the room. Leona's gaze became fixated upon Eloise's crumpled body.

"You stand at a crossroads, Leona, one that would see you exalted… or hunted. You will be rewarded heavily should you join willingly. Just look at your other brothers." He motioned down to the end of the table where he had sat. Billaud-Varenne, Herbois, and Saint-Just sat there, looking back. "I have allowed them to keep their minds, and they will have important jobs in the coming months." He grabbed the sword from her hand and tossed it away from them. "And they have vouched for you. They do not wish to see you dead. And neither do I." She turned to face him.

"Then what was about outside?" she asked solemnly.

"Well, we have to have tryouts. I knew they were no match for you. Leona, with this Apple, we are going to bring an end to the Templar control of France." He grabbed her chin and lifted her head up to face him. "So join us, and I'll let your father go. You and your entire family will be untouchable." She stared at him, tears forming in her eyes. Then he whispered to her. "And if you don't, I'll kill your father. I'll kill your mother. And I will kill your sister, and your brothers. I'll kill everyone that you've ever grown close to." She bowed her head, and the tears began to flow. "It's not like you have much of a- aghhh…" Robespierre's eyes closed in sheer pain. He felt the steel inside of his abdomen. Leona then whispered back to him something that Jefferson told her long ago.

"You need not bear the cross to be of the cross."

He fell away from her and landed against the back of the table. Each assassin turned toward the scene, Billaud-Varenne, Herbois, and Saint-Just rising quickly. Robespierre covered his stomach wound with his hands. Leona retracted her hidden blade with a metallic swoosh, and then was gone. He turned around to the assassins, raising the Apple high. Flashes of light flew from it.

"After her!"

Each Assassin left the table uniformly and ran through the doors in pursuit. He caught Saint-Just before he left the room.

"Stop. I need help… aghhh..."

Leona slammed the front doors behind her. She ran and picked up Nicole's sword and jammed it through the handles of the doors. She turned around to run, but was then hit with the reality before her. Four of her fellow assassins, dead by her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said sadly. Her thoughts were broken by a slam against the door, one that put a severe dent in the sword. She ran through the courtyard, turned right, and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. When she felt she had reached a good distance, she climbed to the top of a building. She then started to hear shouts behind her. She looked back to see the doors burst open, and a flood of assassins running through the abscess. Then she ran. She ran and ran, jumping over gaps where roads carved through the rooftops, and running up walls where the roofs rose, jumping down to where the roofs fell, always continuing onward.

She finally came to a stop to rest awhile. Breathing heavily, she sat atop of a chimney and closed her eyes. She activated her Eagle Sense and branched out, feeling in all directions. She blinked and the moonlight returned to the rooftops. Nothing was being disturbed, as far as she could tell. She looked down at her feet and found herself standing on the roof of an alley. She dropped down to the ground and found strands of hay spread across the ground. Scraping the pieces together, she collapsed onto the makeshift bed from exhaustion. She wiped the tears that had been streaming from her face and closed her eyes, but not before removing a knife from her belt and gripping it in her hand. She kept it close to her for the entire night.

Chapter 14

The Man

January 22

Leona was awakened by a man poking her with the handle of a rake. Once she realized the situation, she relaxed her grip on her knife.

"Hey," he said with an irritant tone. "Shove off." She got up off the ground and tucked her knife back into her belt.

"Sorry," she said. She walked out of the alley, but ducked back in quickly and peered to the end of the street. There, three men that she could identify as assassins were interrogating a man. Shouts rose from the men and swords were unsheathed. She debated going to help the man, but what she saw next made her stay behind the corner. The man dispatched two of the assassins quickly, and with the third he was locked in combat with. She watched the man's technique as he fought. She could tell from his stance and footwork that he was no novice. The assassin made a two-handed downward strike, which the man side-stepped. He then ran the assassin through his side to the sword's hilt. He fell in a slump, and the man pulled a knife and slit the assassin's throat. Blood sprouted from his neck, and then he was dead. The man sheathed his sword and looked at the surrounding townspeople. They had fearful looks in their eyes, each hoping not to be another victim of his sword. He turned and headed down a dark alley. Leona felt a strange feeling and decided to tail him. She quickly made her way to the rooftops and jumped the gap where the road carved through the buildings. She ran over to the top of the alley the man had travelled down and found him; he was headed through the middle of the path, townspeople pressed against the sides of the walls to avoid him. She followed above until the alley filtered out into a larger road. She came to a stop on the lip of a building. There were many individuals roaming throughout this street, and in several moments it became clear to Leona that she had lost him. She didn't give up at that moment, though.

She closed her eyes and activated her Eagle Sense and stared into the crowd. There, outlined in a golden light, was the man. He had cut across the people and was heading toward another alley. She jumped down to the streets, following after him, making sure to disguise herself in the crowd of people that surrounded them. He kept walking, went out of the city gates, and around the corner of the immense stone.

"Where are you going," she asked to herself.

She followed his path, but couldn't find the man. As she rounded the corner, the man brought his sword down upon her, hoping to split his pursuer's head. Leona caught both his arms with hers and managed to push him backwards. He soon recovered, and then began a series of swift attacks against her, all which she dodged, which drove the duo farther away from the city. He took a two-handed horizontal swing at her, which she dodged, then hit him in the neck with her open palm. He dropped to one knee and clutched at his throat, dropping his sword in the process. Leona picked it up and brandished at him, but dropped it as he pulled a knife from his boot and lunged at her. She caught his arm and put her other hand into his abdomen. She knelt close to the ground and, using his own force, flipped the man onto his back. She then straddled him, flicked her hidden blade out, and held it at his throat. His struggles ceased, and he looked indignantly into her eyes, acceptant of his fate.

"Come to finish what your brethren could not, assassin?"

Leona blinked, and color returned to her world.

"I know what you must believe, but I am not one of them monsieur." She retracted her hidden blade and stood up off of him. She held her hand out to him. He didn't take it.

"And why should I believe that, hmm?"

"Because I held your life in my hands, and I've given it back to you. You would already be dead if you were my target" she said flatly. He still didn't look convinced. "Do you wish to know of the men who attacked you? About the trinket that holds their minds?" He looked slightly interested at these words. "Then how about helping me instead of attacking me?" She picked up his sword and tossed it to him. "Or, you may do whatever you please, and be no closer to understanding the truth. Your choice."

The man got to his feet and, cautiously, picked up his sword, always keeping an eye on Leona. He held it with intensity, and even with all of her training, Leona wasn't able to read what he would do. Several moments went past in this state of suspension. It felt to them like hours, instead of only minutes. Finally, Leona felt the man breath easily. He threw his sword down into the dirt between the two, and it stuck out of the ground like a white flag. He then spoke.

"So, what truth do you speak of?"

Leona flipped back her hood, finally able to see the man clearly. He was a tall man, a few inches taller than her. He had pepper black hair which he kept short. His eyes were green, the color of the fields of France on a summer day, and his five-o'clock shadow extended from ear to ear. His tunic was made of white cotton, and his vest was brown leather. He wore black pants which were tucked into his brown boots. Leona admitted to herself, he was very handsome. She forgot herself for a moment, and then quickly regained her composure.

"My name is Leona Philippe, and would be glad to tell you."

"Leona Philippe? Isn't your father the Duke of Orléans?"

"Ah, yes. Yes he is."

"So what are you doing amongst the assassins?"

"I will tell you, but we really must move off of the streets. Do you have a house?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Then we must go there at once. More of those men are bound to show up again."

The two stood there for a moment, eyeing each other with uncertainty.

"Do you have a name?" Leona asked.

"Yes. Gaspar Delacroix," said Gaspar.

Leona nodded.

"A pleasure to meet you Gaspar. Shall we be on our way?"

Gaspar led Leona back to his house. It was located near rocky rubble of the Place de Bastille. Over cups of coffee, she told him that she was an assassin, but not under a spell like the others were. She told him the events of that night; from the moment she left the king's execution to when they both met each other.

"So," Gaspar said, refilling her coffee, "It sounds like you've had a most awful night." Leona nodded.

"I have indeed. He was truly a wolf in sheep's clothing. I believed we were serving a higher purpose in everything we did, but it turns out that Robespierre had been using the Apple to bewitch the minds of the assassins all this time. There's no telling what harm we have brought to the city under his direction."

"And, how come you were not bewitched?"

"Honestly, I couldn't tell you why. He said that certain people possess immunity to the Apple, but the reasons are unknown."

"Hmm." Gaspar took a long draught at his coffee. "Assassins and Templars, in a war over mankind. What will I learn tomorrow?" he chuckled. Leona chuckled as well. Her mind wandered back to the duel between Gaspar and herself.

"So, you have had training in use of the sword?"

"Yes."

"You duel very well."

"Thank you."

"Who taught you?"

"Family taught."

"Who is your family?" Gaspar exhaled slowly.

"They are a very long story, one not fit for conversation right now," he said. The air between them became tense.

"So, I've told you a little about me and what I do. What about you? What are you trying to accomplish?" Gaspar looked up at her.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, what are you trying to get done in this life?"

"I…"

"Oh, if you don't want to tell me, I understand. It's a tough question nowadays. Merely answering the wrong way could lead to one's demise."

"No, no," he said, looking up at her. "I… I guess you could say that right now, I am looking for someone."

"And who might that be?" she asked. Gaspar looked up at her, amazed that she could ask these questions with such vigor.

"A man… who killed my wife… almost seven years ago." His gaze returned to the floor. Leona's enthusiasm dropped.

"Oh… I'm so sorry." Gaspar sighed.

"I was away that day, like I always was, working at the smith shop. I came home that night and found the door unlocked, which was unusual for her. She would keep it locked all the time, insisting that she and I have the only keys. She was gone from the house, but nothing else had been disturbed. No signs of a struggle either. She was just… gone," said Gaspar. "Around a week later, members of the guard started to find pieces of a body floating in the Seine. They eventually found a head… her head…" The two were quiet for a long time after that.

Chapter 15

A New Home

"I'm sorry I brought it up," said Leona, finally. Gaspar sat back in his chair.

"No, no, it is fine. It is good to remember, for our memory is what keeps us going, is it not?" said Gaspar.

"You are very right about that," said Leona. Gaspar got to his feet.

"So then, when are we going to go rescue your father?" Leona looked at him, surprised.

"You wish to help me?" she asked.

"I do. It seems like these violent times were caused by your Robespierre, and I would gladly help you in your mission to topple him from power. Maybe we might find the bastard who killed my wife too." He extended his hand to her. Leona was at a loss for words. "Well?"

"Gaspar," she laughed, "I can honestly say that I am glad to have met you."

"Well, the feeling is mutual, mademoiselle."

"Please, Leona is fine."

"So then Leona, to Les Neuf Sœurs?"

"Gaspar," she smiled, taking his hand, "I admire your bravery, but a frontal attack on the lodge would never work. Besides, I do not wish to kill any more of my brothers and sisters. They are still themselves, just under a spell." Gaspar sat back down.

"Then what do you suppose we do?" he asked.

"As much as we would both enjoy it, killing Robespierre wouldn't solve anything. We create a martyr, and someone else would take his place, so we have to go after what gives him his power."

"This Apple you speak of?"

"In time, yes, but the only thing that gives the Apple any power is the audience that it is used on."

"So what you propose is…?" Leona's eyes met the ceiling.

"I am proposing to remake the Assassin Brotherhood," said Leona.

"Remake the Assassin Brotherhood?" asked Gaspar.

"Yes. And if that were accomplished, it could help find the man you are looking for. Once we are organized, we will establish networks of information and communication. We would find him." Gaspar was listening intently.

"And what would that require, to rebuild the brotherhood?"

"Well, I'll need to train recruits; people who wish to fight against the corruption of this city. I'll start with you."

"Train me?"

"Well yes, you don't just become an assassin because you want to. You start out as a recruit, and then you work until your teacher thinks that you have done well enough to be raised to assassin status. Then it becomes your job to train future recruits as well as heading up missions and investigations. Which reminds me, we'll also need teaching methods. They have been recorded in parchment, which… are still at the lodge. The lodge…" she trailed off.

"What is it?" asked Gaspar.

"None of this matters without some sort of guild, a base, a safe house, if you will."

"What do one of these safe houses look like?"

"Well, have you seen Les Neuf Sœurs?"

"Yes."

"And did you ever have any idea that there were assassins operating out of it?"

"No."

"Something along the lines of that. A building, large enough to accommodate the assassins working there. Before the lodge, we worked out of the basement of the Notre Dame Cathedral. It is, essentially, a place where we may operate, free from the eyes of others."

"And where can these safe houses be located?" asked Gaspar.

"Well, we like to have one near or in the city, like the lodge and cathedral, but some of our past assassin leaders have had their safe houses far away from where they were working, like Ezio in Italy, or Altaïr in Syria. But those are tales for another time." A curious look came over Gaspar's face.

"You know, I think I happen to know just the place."

"Really? What is it?"

"An old estate, located in the Bondy Forest."

"Bondy Forest. Not too far from the gates of the city, but not too close to arouse suspicion. You are full of surprises, my new friend." Gaspar smiled again. "So, may I see this place?"

"We can be there before the sun goes down, if we take horses."

Gaspar led Leona into the Bondy Forest, taking twists and turns down roads and pathways. He eventually brought her to a clearing, coming up to a large chateau. It was ornately designed, sweeping in all directions, two stories high, and made out of a dark stone, along with several windows and conical roofing at each corner. They dismounted their horses, and Gaspar protruded a key that hung from his neck.

"Amazing," said Leona, admiring the building. Gaspar had unlocked the front door with his key, opened it and was standing just outside the door frame, motioning to Leona.

"Come, and experience the warmth and comforts of Chateau-de-Fontaine!" Leona walked through the doors in wonder. They opened up to a large living room decorated with furnishings from Paris. A large fireplace adorned the left side of the wall.

"Wonderful…" was all she could say. "Wait; did you say Fontaine?"

"Ah…" he trailed off. She cocked her eyes at him. "Well yes, the chateau belongs to the Fontaine family."

"I know about the Fontaines. A very wealthy family, but in 1782 they were all lost in a storm off the coast of France. So the question is, how do you know that this belonged to them, and how did you come across the key to it?" Gaspar let out a long sigh.

"I know that this looks bad, but you must let me explain."

"I was about to suggest the exact same thing," she said flatly.

"We should go have a seat then." Gaspar shut the door behind them, and motioned over to two chairs. Leona sat down, but kept alert. She had just told this man everything about the order, and if he was not who he said he was, she might need to silence him. "This was the residence for the Fontaines. If you look up at the painting," Gaspar said, motioning to a family portrait hung above the mantle of the fireplace, "you will see there from the top; Tomas and Annette, then their children in front of them; Alexandre, Bianca, and Adrienne." There was a fourth child on the row, with black hair and green eyes.

"What about the last child?" Leona asked, but she realized before she finished speaking. "Gaspar du Fontaine?"

"Clever. But back then I was known as Charles. Charles du Fontaine."

"Charles," she said. "So you were a part of this family? Why would you ever leave?"

"Well, you would have to have been a member of my family to know. Outwardly, it would seem that I had the idyllic upbringing in the French nobility. My family has inherited our fortune from our ancestors and was able to keep it flourishing. But they kept certain… details… from being public."

"Details? What sort of details?" asked Leona.

"My family…" he laughed under his breath, "made people disappear, for the right price, of course."

"I see," said Leona.

"Someone would contact us with a target, and we'd send out an employee to take their life. After it was over, we would receive a dead drop at a predetermined site. It was all very business-like"

"Well sadly, when you're in my line of work, you aren't often surprised at what people might do."

"We had other sources of income, certainly. Father sponsored several local businesses and taverns around France, but our underhanded dealings were where the real money came from."

"So what happened to you?" asked Leona. Gaspar looked at her simply.

"I left."

"You left?"

"Yes."

"Well, what made you leave?"

"Well, keep in mind that I had not known about this other side of my family for my entire life. When I turned sixteen in '81, Father had decided to bring me into the family business, much as he had with my brothers and sisters. They brought the most recent target down into the basement. I was called down there, and my Father and brother were standing there with this poor man, who was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Father explained everything to me there. Afterwards he handed me a pistol and instructed me to shoot the man, a sort of 'rite of passage' in his mind. I refused, but he reassured me, telling me that my brother and sisters had gone through the same. So I took the pistol in my hand and approached the man, my hand shaking the whole time. The man was whimpering, and as I raised it and pulled the hammer back, he cried out into his gag. He made muffled pleas and his blindfold was soaked with his own tears. I stood there for a while, finger on the trigger, and then I lowered the gun, I couldn't do it. After several moments went by, Alexandre took the pistol from me and shot him right there. I was like a stone, even when Father reassured me that I would be all right, that I just needed time. While Father and Alexandre went to the dining hall for dinner, I was washing the man's blood out of my shirt. I don't think that I said a word that night at dinner. To see my mother, father, sisters and brother being able to flip this switch like there was nothing wrong with the way they lived, it was too much." Gaspar closed his eyes after speaking and laid back.

"So… what happened after that?" asked Leona. Gaspar opened his eyes again.

"The night after, I left. Right in the middle of the night. I hitched up a horse and left. I made my way into Paris, started going by Gaspar, became a blacksmith's apprentice, and I never saw them again."

Something crossed Leona's mind.

"So, if you never saw your family afterwards, how did come into possession of this house?" Gaspar chuckled.

"Well, I didn't leave _everything_ behind when I left." Gaspar held up the key that hung around his neck. "I took it the night I left."

"Why?" asked Leona.

"Insurance, I guess. Or maybe I just wanted to show them up one last time, I don't know."

"Did your family try to find you? I mean, they had just revealed their secrets to you, and you ran away with a house key. I'm certain they weren't pleased."

"Oh I'm certain they tried, but I moved around quite often, changing my name every couple of days. I've gone by as Jean, Francois, but, as you are aware of, I've settled on Gaspar."

"And why is that?"

"Well, you were actually the one who brought it up. We received news in Paris that the Fontaine family had been killed in a storm off the coast of France. After that, I decided that it was time to stop wandering and build a life for myself. I was currently using Gaspar as my name, so I stuck with it. I dared not to use 'Charles du Fontaine' again. There might have been some people who were… displeased with what my family was doing."

"And that's it?" asked Leona.

"Yes, that's my ancient history. After I was able to settle down I met my wife. We were… very happy…" A tear fell from Gaspar's cheek. "I'm sorry…" He got up from his chair and walked to a window where he stared out at the setting sun. Leona felt helpless.

"Gaspar… what was your wife's name?" He massaged his forehead with his first two fingers.

"Dianne. Her name was Dianne." Leona got up and walked to him. She placed her arm gently on his.

"I'm sure she was lovely," said Leona.

"Oh, she was. Flowing, golden hair, hazel eyes; she had a voice that could make the angels dance. That's what I would tell her anyway," and he began to weep. The two stayed like that for a while. Soon Gaspar wiped his eyes and was done. "Sorry," he said.

"You've nothing to be sorry about," said Leona. The two went back to their seats.

"Although," said Gaspar, "there's this one thing that's been keeping me up at night for the past five years." He reached into his vest and pulled from it a piece of parchment and handed it to Leona. She read it out loud.

"Sorry you missed our boat party, boy. Now the real fun begins." Leona looked up at him. "When did you get this?"

"It was the day that Dianne was abducted. I was working and someone came up and handed it to me. Said that he didn't know who the man who asked him to deliver it was, but he wore a dark black hood and gave him a nice bit of silver. After I received it I went home immediately, where I found… well you know the rest. The point being is that there's someone that wants me dead, or to suffer at the very least. He must have thought that killing my father, mother, brother, and sisters would have gotten to me, but…" Gaspar trailed off.

"Do you not miss them at all?" asked Leona.

"I miss who my family was. I miss not knowing everything that I knew about them. You must realize, after I came out of that basement, I couldn't look at my family the same way. So, yes, it is really strange, but I've made peace with it." A smile returned to Gaspar's face, which made Leona smile.

"And I am glad for that. By the way, what should I call you, Charles, or Gaspar?" asked Leona.

"Gaspar will be fine. I've grown accustomed to it, so." Gaspar stood up. "Well, I think that's all I have. Have I convinced you?" Leona nodded.

"Yes, I believe that you are telling me the truth. And I will work hard to identify the man that you are searching for."

"All in due time." Gaspar looked out at the darkening sky. "Let me show you where the sleeping quarters are at." Leona got up from her chair. "But first, are you hungry?" he asked her. It seemed that the very acknowledgement of food's existence brought Leona's hunger back. She had not eaten since before the king's execution.

"Actually, I'm starving."

Part 3:

Liberté

Chapter 16

Rebuilding

January 23

"Let me come with you," said Gaspar.

"No, it is too dangerous. Besides, you have no training, and that is the main reason I must do this" said Leona.

"But what if you are caught?"

"I have the element of surprise on my side. They still think me running scared throughout the city. The last place they would think to look would be right under their noses. They know nothing about you or our plans."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to. Don't worry; I'll be in and out and back before you know it."

Clouds dotted the starry sky as Leona rode into Paris. She ducked her horse into an alley and dismounted, taking to the rooftops. Running and jumping over them, she came to the giant back yard of Les Neuf Sœurs. This was a normal thing for the assassins to enter and exit the lodge this way, in days past. The yard was about sixty feet long and stretched forty feet from the lodge, forming another crescent shape. She peered over the large stone walls to check the yard. It was empty, and none of the sconces outside were lit. Lucky, Leona thought. She then peered along the inside of the wall for a way out. Ten crates, which she had used before, were still lined up against the wall, as a sort of stair. Lucky, she thought again. She vaulted herself over the stone wall to the top crate and made her way down. At the bottom, she sat, listening to the night for any disturbances. After a moment or two, she allowed herself the slight comfort in thinking that she was alone. But as she did this, the clouds seemed to open up, allowing the moon to illuminate the training yard. Not so lucky, she thought.

The armory was where all the training documents were kept, and was situated on the left side of Les Neuf Sœurs, on the outside of the building, but on the inside of the backyard. Leona made her way toward it, keeping her footsteps light and her eyes sharply focused on the door to the lodge, knowing that if it were to open, she would be found. She made it to the armory, found the doorknob, and slipped inside.

Closing the door softly behind her, she produced a candle from her robes and withdrew a powder-less flintlock pistol. Pulling the hammer back, she held the wick of the candle to the striking zone of the pistol, and fired the gun. The sound of the flint striking against the steel was all that was heard, and a quiet shower of sparks emerged from the gun. Leona pulled the candle away, lit. The room was a small room, with a cabinet on the opposite end of the wall and a table in the middle of the room. She walked to the cabinets and opened them, revealing three shelves. The top and middle shelves contained scrolls rolled tight, and the bottom shelf held an excess amount of hidden blades. She gathered the blades inside her robes, grabbed a scroll from the shelf, and took it to the table. She rolled it out and brought her candle to it. Tiny figurines dotted the parchment in different positions, with writing in the margins. Perfect, thought Leona. She gathered the rest of the parchments in her robes and blew out the candle.

As she made her way to the door, the door to the lodge opened. She quietly slid down to the side of the wall beside the door and listened. Four figures had come outside to talk away from the lodge.

"To be out among the stars is a peaceful thing. You all would do well to remember this throughout your lives." Leona's fingers found a gap in the wall where she could look out to the figures. It was Jean, Jacques, Louis, and Robespierre, standing in a circle.

"How has your search gone, Jean?" asked Robespierre.

"I'm sorry sir. She has proven most elusive," said Jean.

"I trust that you will double your efforts then?" asked Robespierre. Jean looked around nervously.

"Y-yes sir. It would be easier if we had more recruits out looking for her."

"That can be arranged. Our scouts have brought in new conscripts that will search with you on the morrow. I'll need to have some alone time with them and the Apple, but that will be no problem."

"So we are recruiting again? We should get the things from the armory," said Jacques, heading for the armory door. Leona's eyes widened and her breath quieted as he approached, and the door opened slightly before it stopped at the sound of Robespierre's voice. She became completely still.

"That won't be necessary, Jacques." Jacques' hand rested on the doorknob, and a ray of moonlight shone into the room, inches from Leona's robes. "We won't be training recruits as we did in the old ways. It's time you started thinking of yourselves less as assassins, and more like revolutionaries. Tomorrow, gentlemen, a new day is dawning. We are Assassins no more. We are the saviors of this city. We… are revolutionaries." The men looked up with concern at him. "Danton was merely a test. Soon we will bring all of the other buffoons under our control, and then, we will change this nation. Perhaps the world... I have seen it," he said, putting his hand inside his jacket. Jacques' hand swung the door to the armory closed, and then he walked back towards the group.

"Sir," said Jean, "are you feeling alright?"

"If you are referring to my state of mind, I have never felt better." Robespierre's tone made Jean shift uncomfortably. "I would also advise you," he continued, "to remember who gave you this lodge, and your privileges. Your very minds could belong to me if I willed it, but I have allowed you to stay at my side. You are all expendable, remember that." Leona's silence could not compare to the silence between the three men. Robespierre strode away from them into the yard, still speaking. "Things are being set in motion that no one will be able to stop, and all the gears must work together to achieve the common goal. Mark my words; we will go down in history. Men will look up to us, but only if you allow me to take us there" He returned to the group. He then felt his side. "If you are referring to my injury, besides being a little sore, yes. The dagger didn't cut too deep. Doctor said that rest and relaxation will help, as if any could be afforded at times like these. Come." Robespierre entered the lodge with the three in tow right behind him. As the door to the lodge swung closed, Leona inhaled deeply to replenish her lungs. She sat there for a time before she opened the door to the courtyard.

Surveying for any threats and finding none, she ran back to the stacked crates and climbed them to the top of the wall. Hurdling over it, she bolted across the rooftops to where she left her horse, and then rode it in a full gallop back to the forest.

Back at the lodge, a piqued Robespierre looked out from the window and thought about what he had seen. He smiled before he closed the curtains.

April 8

Leona and Gaspar stood at the eastern entrance of Paris. The buildings rose around the two like walls of a maze. Gaspar wore a long white robe; similar to the one Leona was wearing.

"Where should we start?" asked Gaspar.

"We could try the market district; or the Hôtel de Rambouillet. We have to keep to the streets, though. It's too obvious to travel over the roofs in daylight."

"What should I be looking for in recruits?"

"Remember the day I met you? Look for people being oppressed, and who are willing to fight against their oppressors." The two drew their hoods over their heads, and ventured into the city.

As they were passing the Notre Dame, they witnessed three men dragging a priest out to the street.

"See that?" Leona pointed over to the scene. "Sans-culottes. Robespierre's army."

"Are they the assassins?" asked Gaspar.

"Robespierre seems to have blended them in to the existing sans-culottes. It's hard to tell who's who now." The sans-culottes loaded the priest into a prison carriage which was filled with prisoners. They then headed back into the cathedral. "Hold here a moment," said Leona. She ran the distance up to the carriage and talked with the prisoners. To their curiosity, she began picking the lock and soon, the cage swung open. "Go! Go! Leave Paris!" she said as they climbed out. She then returned to Gaspar.

"Won't they just put more in the carriage?"

"Not without this," Leona said smiling, holding the locking apparatus. "Quickly, we must leave!"

As they rounded down one street, they passed a herald crying out the news of the day. Normally, they said things of little importance, but what this particular herald cried troubled Leona quite deeply.

"Word from the Convention; The Committee of Public Safety has been established to protect the interests of the people of France! From foreign enemies and those that would plot to destroy our nation from within! Heading the Committee is the venerable Georges Danton, of the Girondist party! If you know of any enemies of the state hidden amongst yourselves, report their names to myself or any other heralds or to the Revolutionary Tribunal directly! You will be handsomely rewarded for any information that leads to the arrest of these enemies of the state! News of the War in the Vendée…" Leona and Gaspar had walked out of earshot of the herald. Gaspar leaned close to her.

"Didn't you say something about Danton being under control of Robespierre?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm. That is troubling indeed." The two walked through the crowds of people, drawing their hoods further over their eyes.

Chapter 17

Rearming

Through her and Gaspar's efforts, Leona had acquired three assassin recruits, Cécile Renault, a knife specialist, Henri Admirat, a firearms enthusiast, and Charlotte Corday, a roundabout student of the assassin arts. These individuals were chosen because they demonstrated the willingness to fight against the oppressive regime that Robespierre had put in place of the government. In Paris, The Revolutionary Tribunal became a weapon of fear wielded by the Committee of Public Safety, one that condemned to death people suspected of counterrevolutionary ideas, among those suspected, the remaining assassins.

The five worked in the city of Paris, but after several close calls with Robespierre's Jacobin's, a political club almost entirely made up of the former assassins, it occurred to Leona that other cities in France needed protection and assistance. As assassins, they normally withheld from getting directly involved with politics, instead pulling strings from the fringes of sight. It was Gaspar that suggested Lyon. The Jacobins had established one of their own to control the city. The five travel there now to topple him from power, and ignite a revolt of their own.

May 10

Leona leaned over, bracing the underside of the bridge with her hand as the boat sailed into the city of Lyon. Docking on the East bank of the Saône River, the assassins exited their boat and ventured into the depths of the city. They walked through the streets silently, taking in the state of things. People on the streets begging for food, revolutionary soldiers dragging away civilians whether to the guillotine or to the barracks; the city was in a state of disrepair. Soon, Leona came to a halt at an alley. She turned down it and came to a man sleeping at the end of it. He appeared passed out drunk, lying in front of a door. She picked up a stone from the ground and rapped it against the wall three times,

"The eagle has flown away!" barked the man.

"But it has returned with the serpent clutched in its talons," she said to him. The man fished around in his coat and produced the key to the door he slept against. Leona grabbed it, and, stepping over the man, opened the door and disappeared through. The assassins followed suit.

The five came out to a dimly lit room with men rushing back and forward, carrying documents, and sometimes armfuls of weapons, to locations deeper inside the building. Two men sat at a table lit by an oil lamp, discussing current events in Paris and Lyon. Leona motioned for her recruits to stay back for a moment and approached the table. The two men's conversation ceased, each looking at Leona with awe. The man on the left got enough courage to speak.

"Assassin…"

"Coindre?" asked Leona. The man that sat beside him spoke up.

"I am Coindre, assassin." He stood up, along with the other man. "And this is our own Judge Ampère."

"Pleased to meet you both," said Leona.

"To be honest, we were quite surprised when we received your letter. Such acts could be counted amongst treason in these days, but we were convinced that your cause is worth fighting for."

"Thank you for believing me, but I must warn you, our enemy is far deadlier than he seems. If you wish to back out, I would not hold it against you."

"We will stand by you, assassin, for the only other option is to submit to fear, and the city of Lyon will never do so, so long as we are here to guard her," said Ampère.

"Well then, with that settled, what is the situation?" asked Leona.

May 11

Leona and her recruits walked through the Place de Terreaux. The city hall of Lyon stood just on the brink of the town square.

"So, teacher," asked Henri, "what do we hope to accomplish here?"

"From the information given to us by Coindre and Ampère, what I've gathered is that the Committee of Public Safety in Paris has sent Joseph Chalier, one of their own, to end the royalist insurrection. Many in this town still have faith in a monarchy, and while we might not share the same opinion as they do, we can still build support against Robespierre's government."

"The enemy of my enemy," said Gaspar.

"Truly," said Leona. "This man, Chalier, is not a popular man here. His associates have been excluded from public offices, but in March, an ally of his was elected mayor, and now he enacts measures to keep the people fearful. In April, they established a Lyon Committee of Public Safety. And just in May, a few days ago, he had this installed." The five came to a stop at a guillotine in the middle of the square. The blade had flicks of dried blood on it. "It's a permanent structure now." She rested her fist against it and knocked upon it a few times. "We don't need to do it this way." She remained still for some time after, but then turned. "Come; Chalier's speaking today at City Hall. Let us see what he has to say."

May 14

"And as of today, the council of the city has voted to bring into being a Revolutionary Army of Lyon with a six million franc fund. This budget shall come from newly initiated taxes on those who are… better off, in our fair society," said Chalier from his podium. The audience began to stir at the sound of the news of new taxes.

"We got him," said Leona.

"Teacher, what is our next move?" asked Charlotte. Leona and her recruits were waiting in the hallways of City Hall. The group they had sat in on had been dismissed, to reconvene in an hour. Occupying the hallway were many delegates who had sat in on the meeting, all of them engaged in verbal debate about Chalier's announcement.

"You see these officials?" asked Leona. She scanned through the hallway, back and forth. "What's something that you notice that they all have in common?" The recruits looked around as well, but remained silent. "The size of their purses. These are the people that have the most to lose under Chalier's government. They have already suffered under Chalier; now they stand to lose even more. They are angry, to be sure, but they are waiting for that little push." She felt the frustration in the air, a feeling that reminded her of Versailles so long ago. "Spread out, and give them the nudge they need."

"We will not fail you, teacher," said Cécile. The five dissipated, wandering through the crowded delegates. Leona walked up to a particular group engaged in fiery discussion about Chalier's latest enactments.

"So, how much have you given to Chalier, and how much are you willing to give now?" she asked the men.

May 20

"It seems as though Paris is angry that we aren't following their rules. They have sent out two deputies of their own Committee; they are a man named Antoine Gauthier and Xavier Nioche," said Coindre.

"Well, you didn't expect to rise up against one of their own without recourse, did you?" asked Ampère.

"We will need to deal with them quickly," said Leona.

"Are you going to kill them?" asked Coindre.

"Only if it comes to that."

May 29

Gaspar looked on with Leona at the Arsenal building as it was swarmed by the same delegates they had talked to days before in City Hall.

"They arrested Gauthier and Nioche?" asked Gaspar.

"Indeed, now they search for Chalier."

June 10

"We must take our leave now," Leona said. "Might I add congratulations on your new title, Mayor," she added with a smile.

"Well, thank you for the recognition," said Coindre. "It makes me sad to see you go, just when things were getting so exciting!"

"I understand, but we have been away from Paris for too long. You have Chalier in custody, and the Jacobins are out of Lyon."

"Where will you go now?"

"We will need to return to Paris. We have been treating the symptoms here, but now we must heal the sickness where it began."

"I understand. And let me say on behalf of the city of Lyon, we are wholly indebted to what you have done here."

"Thank you." Leona went to exit the building. "Keep strong," she added, and then disappeared through the door.

Chapter 18

One to Save One-hundred Thousand

June 28

"Teacher, if you have a moment." Leona was sitting in the chateau, deep in thought, contemplating the brotherhood's next move. Charlotte had wondered upon Leona, unbeknownst to her, carrying a folded newsletter.

"Yes?" she asked.

"There was something I thought you should see." She handed the newsletter to her.

"Journal of the French Republic," she said as she read the title. She read down to the editor's name. "Jean-Paul Marat…" Leona trailed off. She remembered back to the days of the assassin brotherhood at the lodge, and how Marat had been brought in by Thomas and Lafayette. The assassins had treated him well, even given him protection from those who had wished him harm. "So, why does this interest you?"

"When in Paris this morning, I found this being handed out on one of the street corners. These documents are accusatory, and their goal is to shed light on supposed enemies of the revolution. After reading it myself though, I speculate that the editors are trying to find people with information on us." Leona read down the lines of the people mentioned in the paper.

"These people know nothing, yet they are persecuted."

"My thoughts exactly. There are innocents out there that are being abducted, questioned, and possibly worse, for information that they do not have."

"Well, this must stop. We can't put other people in jeopardy because of our actions." Leona got up.

"There was… something else that you must know." Charlotte took the newsletter and turned to the inner page. She handed it to Leona, her hand still on the page.

"Under my finger." Leona followed it, then read the name of her father, Louis Philippe, or as he had been become known in earlier months, Louis Egalité.

"How old is this," Leona asked quietly.

"This particular edition, about two weeks old," said Charlotte.

"Yes, thank you for bringing this to me. Gather everyone into the dining room. I will be there shortly" Leona walked over to the fireplace.

"Yes teacher."

Leona emerged a short time later to the recruits.

"Marat is our target," she said. "And Charlotte, the target is yours."

"And I take it gladly," she said.

July 10

"So, what are your plans?"

"Marat has been absent from official National Convention meetings for a very long time, suffering from a skin disease he had picked up while hiding from the royalists. He had hid in the sewers for some time, I'm told."

"So how does this help you?"

"Because of his skin, Marat spends most of his days soaking in a medicinal bath in his home to alleviate his pains. He also writes his publications from there. I plan to ask for an audience, giving names of royalist sympathizers from my hometown in Caen. Then, I will strike."

"Good. Very good." said Leona.

July 13

"Simonne, let her in!" shouted Marat from his bath.

"Fine, if you wish it!" shouted a frustrated Simonne. Moments later, Charlotte walked into Marat's bathroom, looking back at Simonne. "But we will not get in the habit of letting in strangers after dark!" they heard Simonne shout.

"Most sorry my dear," said Marat. "Sometimes my wife doesn't understand the noble work that we must pursue," he said with a chuckle. "So, sit! Tell me what you know." Charlotte sat down on a stool next to Mart's bath.

"Well, in my hometown of Caen, there are several Girondists that have escaped to there. They are trying to drum up support against our noble Robespierre. They are a plague and must be stopped," said Charlotte.

"Yes! Yes!" Marat grabbed his quill and dipped it in an ink well. Across his tub a wooden board sat where he kept his documents dry. "Their names?" he asked, smiling.

"Clément-Jacques du Ranges." As she said the name, she saw Marat write it down greedily. "Jean-Henri Dominique," she said, off the top of her head. Again, the ink poured on to the paper quickly. "Marc du Seville…"

"Well my dear, quite a list!" said Marat, smiling at the lines of ink.

"Whatever I can do for my country, I would do it with fervor," said Charlotte, getting to her feet. Marat smiled at her.

"Many thanks, Miss Charlotte. Your assistance will be greatly appreciated. Their heads will fall within a fortnight!" He seemed giddy looking over the names that Charlotte had given him.

"Oh, and one last name," she said.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Leona Philippe," she said. Marat looked confused. Charlotte pulled a knife from her belt.

"Oh NO!" shouted Marat at the sight of the blade. He began to scramble in his place, unable to get out with the board stretched across his bathtub. Charlotte walked over to him and put her right hand on his shoulder. He stopped moving and looked into her eyes with terror.

"Help me, my dear friend!" he screamed. Charlotte plunged the knife into the flesh around his heart. Marat screamed and jerked. Charlotte twisted the blade, and then he whimpered, quieter than before. Knowing she had hit an artery, she removed the blade from his chest. Marat's face was full of anguish and panic, but then his face began to calm, easier and easier.

"Rest in peace," she said. She turned to see Simonne standing right through the doorway in shock. Charlotte pushed past her to leave, and Simonne went to Marat's side. He held out his arms to her, and then died.

As Charlotte exited the building, three figures emerged out of the shadows and caught her by surprise. The three bound and gagged her and threw a sack over her head. The figures then disappeared into the shadows as quietly as they had come, carrying Charlotte between the three of them.

"Why is she not back yet?" asked Leona. "She should have been back hours ago." Gaspar only stared at the floor.

"I could make a guess, but you wouldn't like it."

"What do you mean?" Gaspar folded his hands back and forth on each other.

"She's been captured."

"Captured. Ok," said Leona, grabbing her cloak.

"You can't think you'll find her out there."

"I'll have an idea when I get there."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," said Leona.

"Why?"

"If you come along you're only going to slow me down," Leona said with necessity. Gaspar looked hurt at this.

"Fine, go get her," said Gaspar. His indignant tone was not lost on Leona.

"Look, if she comes back, you'll need to be here so she's not alone. Henri and Cécile aren't expected back for a couple of days and I'll be out looking for her. We also can't leave this place unattended."

"I'm fine, don't worry. Go find her."

"I'll be back within three hours. If I'm not, you can then look for me after that."

"Are you going through the tunnel?"

"No. I'll need to go by horseback. It'll be faster right now."

Leona came to the ledge of a building overlooking the Seine River. She had gone back to Marat's house that night in search of Charlotte. Using her heightened senses, she was able to follow the trail of the captors, avoiding the streets wherever she could. Her path had taken her to the edges of the Seine, her goal lying on the Île de la Cité, the island that lay in the middle of Paris. She jumped from the ledge up, diving into the waters below her.

Swimming to the stone banks of the island, she hoisted herself up over the edge and looked up at the building in front of her. It was La Conciergerie, the prison of the past king Charles V, and also the seat of the Revolutionary Tribunal. Her senses told her that Charlotte was nearby. Crossing the small street between the building and the bank, she jumped up to a window and caught the ledge. Finding finger and foot holds she climbed up and around, until she came to the roof of the building. From there, she gained access to the inner courtyard of the prison. Scaling over the lip of the building, she descended to the ground floor, only to find Charlotte right before her in a cell.

"Teacher?" said the voice from within. Leona rushed to the bars to see her friend.

"Charlotte! You're alive!" Leona met her arms with Charlotte's. Leona's eyes dotted up and down her matted hair and torn clothes. "You look like you've been through hell."

"Why are you here?"

"Well, I thought that it would be obvious," said Leona curtly.

"Leona…"

"Now, where is the key?"

"Leona…"

"No matter then, I will find it." Leona started to pull away, but Charlotte stretched out and grabbed her.

"Leona!" She stopped at Charlotte's frustration.

"What?"

"You can't do this for me," she said.

"What?"

"Our creed."

"What about it?"

"Never compromise the brotherhood."

"What do you mean?"

"If I escape, they'll put it together what you are planning. Tell me; what conclusions would you draw about someone that had assassinated a government official and then broke out of prison the very same day? And they know that you are still out there."

"But they will come for us anyway, Charlotte! It's better for you to fight with us than to be paraded before everyone and be beheaded!"

"You are wrong. They won't hunt for you, because they don't know who I am."

"I don't understand."

"Do you see what I'm wearing?" Leona looked down at Charlotte. Her dress was plain, not the robes that the assassins wore; a blue dress with lace, and brown sandals with stockings. "I was wearing this when I killed Marat. I used a knife, not my hidden blade. I wasn't even wearing it."

"Why did you do that?"

"I felt that this would be safer, should I be caught. As you can see, I turned out to be right."

"No, I'm going to find that key. We'll face whatever happens to us together." Leona blinked and her surroundings darkened. She began to walk away towards a golden door, but Charlotte caught her by the arm.

"I can't let you do this."

"You're not an assassin yet. Our creed doesn't apply to you," said Leona. She pulled her arm away and headed for the door.

"Guards! Quickly! Help!" screamed Charlotte. Leona looked back at her with incredulity. All up the main building of La Conciergerie, she saw lights illuminating windows and heard shouts coming from the inside. "There's someone here! Please come and help!" Leona rushed back to Charlotte.

"What are you doing?!"

"You can't take them all on, Leona. Get out of here. Remember our creed." Leona banged her fists against the bars and shouted, then began climbing up the bars. After reaching the roof, she ran over to the ledge and dove into the waters below. Leona emerged on the opposite wall of stone. She pounded the wall with her fist then splashed the water, angry at herself and Charlotte. She hoisted herself up on to the bank and sat there for a while, looking back at the Île de la Cité. Then returned to her feet, climbed to the rooftops, and made her way back to where she had left her horse.

Gaspar was staring at the clock intently. The clock was approaching two a.m., almost two hours after Leona had left. Finally, the hand slipped into its place, and the clock rang twice. Gaspar was already suited up, so he made his way out to the stables. He was about to mount one of the horses when he saw Leona ride up by herself. She ducked her horse in and dismounted.

"I was about to come looking for you." Leona didn't respond. She only took the saddle off her horse and placed it along one of the beams. "Where's Charlotte?" Leona turned and walked back to the house, slamming the door behind her. "What…" said Gaspar. He followed and opened the door. "Leona, what's going on? Where's Charlotte?" Leona was standing in the middle of the room with her hood at her shoulders. She turned to face him. Gaspar saw that she had been crying.

"She… was better… better than I was. She made the right decision…" She started to cry again.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." Gaspar went and hugged her. Leona's hands gripped his robe as she sobbed. "Now, just tell me what happened."

"I was… I had found her… at La Concierge prison and… I was trying to rescue her… but she wouldn't… she wouldn't let me… rescue her… they would know …" she said between sobs.

"Alright, shh, it's okay. What happened has happened, and there's nothing you can do to change that. Shh…" Gaspar held Leona there, hugging her up in his arms. It made Leona feel at peace, having his arms wrapped around her. She looked up at his eyes.

"Gaspar…" He looked down into hers.

"Leona…" The two kissed briefly, then shared a deep, longing kiss. After it broke, Leona looked around the room, not finding anything comfortable to lie on.

"Bedroom?"

Gaspar nodded. He then picked her up and walked up the stairs, carrying her tightly in his arms.

Gaspar woke up and felt beside him, placing his hand on Leona's bare back. She seemed to wake at his touch. She rolled over on her side and met his gaze. To him, she seemed… distant.

"Hey," said Gaspar. Leona rolled back over and sat upon the edge of the bad.

"I'm sorry," said Leona. She began looking for her clothes.

"Sorry? What do you have to be sorry about?" Leona slipped her shirt over the top of her head and pulled her trousers on. "Hey, will you at least talk to me?" Leona left the room without saying a word. Gaspar laid back. "Damn it." He got up to search for his own clothes. Putting on a pair of pants, he walked downstairs to find Leona in the living room in one of the chairs. He sat down beside her. "Look," he began, but Leona stopped him.

"Listen, last night shouldn't have happened."

"Sure it shouldn't have, but it did."

"I'm aware. But think; in our line of work, we can't afford to be emotionally compromised. If we let our personal feelings get in the way, they'll ruin us. I… I have to be able to leave you behind if it comes to that. And you have to be able to do the same with me."

"I…" but he trailed off.

"This was something Charlotte taught me last night. She was correct. I shouldn't have gone," said Leona.

"So where does that leave us?" Gaspar asked. Leona sighed.

"Maybe when this is all over, we'll be able to find out where we want to go with us."

"Will it ever be over?" Leona couldn't answer him.

July 17

Down among the streets of Place de la Révolution, a huge crowd had gathered to see the killer of Marat before she was executed. A cry echoed through the crowd, and Charlotte's convoy came into view. It came to rest behind the guillotine, and guards marched to the rear to open the door to her cage. She climbed out of it and made her way to the scaffolding amidst both cries and vegetables being thrown at her. She walked up beside the guillotine and stood still while the director read out her charges. The assassins watched from a building above.

"This isn't right," said Henri.

"We should be down there rescuing her," said Cécile.

"We'll be doing no such thing," said Leona.

"Why?" said Henri, with a tone that was less of a question and more of a challenge.

"She reminded me that duty prevails over feelings. And if you were to try to do something here, it would dishonor that lesson." Henri backed down. The four gazed out to the guillotine and watched as their friend was strapped on to the board. She was laid down and pushed until her neck dangled over the basket below. They watched as the drumroll stopped, the lever was pulled, and the blade fell with a gross slosh, followed by a dull thump. "Rest in peace, mon ami."

"Rest in peace, mon ami," repeated the three, and the assassins disappeared from the rooftop.

Chapter 19

Retribution

July 27

Through the bustling streets of Paris a carriage came to a stop outside the Tuileries Palace. Robespierre descended and waved to the driver, who then flicked his whip and moved away. Buttoning his jacket, he ascended the steps and came to the doors. Two guards opened them for him as he approached. Inside the Tuileries, he ascended another set of steps, which led him to a corridor. Walking the length of it, he came to his destination. Opening the double doors, he found eleven men around a long table. They stood up at the sound of his approach. He walked to a vacant seat at the end of the table. Around the table stood his team; Vieuzac, Lindet, André, Couthon, Séchelles, Prieur, Carnot, Prieur-Duvernois, Saint-Just, Billaud-Varenne, and Herbois.

"Brothers," said Robespierre with a growing grin, "let our real work begin."

"Aye," they all said. As they all sat in their seats, Vieuzac remained standing.

"I would like to congratulate our dear Robespierre on his recent election to our Committee of Public Safety before we begin."

"Here-here!" declared the group. Robespierre smiled and waved them down.

"Thank you, thank you all," he said. "Now, our first order of business is what, Couthon?" Couthon removed from his breast pocket a piece of parchment.

"Now, are any of you familiar with the city of Lyon?"

August 22

Ampère and Coindre opened the doors to the roof of the Arsenal Building. From the top, they could see the revolutionary army circling the walls of Lyon. Cannons were set up and teams of soldiers stood by them, ready to fire.

"Did any of our messengers get out of the city?" asked Ampère.

"I don't believe so. If any did, they were cut down by the army," said Coindre.

"We're going to die, aren't we?"

"Yes. I believe we are." They watched as the last of François Kellerman's forces closed off the city completely. "Let's go." The two descended back into the building, and down at the front lines, the call went up to begin the bombardment.

September 9

"Sir," said Saint-Just, "There is still the matter of Leona." Robespierre nodded.

"Yes, you are correct," he said.

"Our forces in the streets are not enough to find one single assassin on the run in a city the size of Paris."

"You have a proposal?" Saint-Just pulled a piece of parchment from his vest.

"Someone out there knows something, and we need to find them." He handed the paper to Robespierre. He scanned the document up and down.

"Suspicious who, by their conduct or their relationships… enemies of freedom… former nobles, all the husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, son or daughters, brothers or sisters… not consistently demonstrated their commitment to the Revolution…"

"What do you think?"

"I like it."

"I'm not giving this commission to the authorities, though."

"No; give them to the sans-culottes. We will discuss this further with the committee tonight."

"Yes, sir."

September 17

"It is hereby decreed that the Law of Suspects is now in effect!" the herald announced. "The law calls for the information of anyone suspicious to be brought forth immediately. Those suspicious are all avowed enemies and likely enemies of the Revolution, nobles, officials removed from office, officers suspected of treason, hoarders, and any others who partake in actions that are detrimental to the Revolution! Report any and all suspicious activities to the sans-culottes!"

October 29

"I… I'm sorry sir. Leona still evades us," said Billaud-Varenne.

"I will admit that I am growing tired of your inadequacies, Jacques," said Robespierre.

"Well why don't you blame your lap dog," he said, pointing to Saint-Just, "who thought up this plan in the first place?"

"Do not push your failings down upon Louis. Now I advise you to sit down and remain silent for the rest of the meeting." He did so with contempt. "Jean-Marie," Herbois looked up, almost apprehensively.

"Yes sir?"

"Lyon is back under our control now. I want you to go and do some suppression. You can do that, can't you?"

"I… Yes, sir. I carry out the will of the revolution."

"Good. Louis?" asked Robespierre.

"Sir," said Saint-Just.

"Where is Leona's father?"

"In our custody, sir."

"Good. Execute him. Spread the word."

"At once, sir."

November 6

The assassins stood atop the roofs and looked down upon the Place de la Révolution where they had watched too many executions occur before.

"They're trying to get to you," said Gaspar.

"I know," said Leona. She wouldn't show it, but Gaspar could tell that she was shaken. The four watched as the blade came down upon Louis-Philippe's neck. After wiping a tear from her cheek, she turned to Henri and Cécile. "We need to finish your training." She looked back at the guillotine and saw the guard move to remove the body. "Let's go."

November 30

Lyon was in ruins. The bombardment had seen to that. Herbois exited the building where he was staying at and sidestepped a large chunk of marble on his way to the Les Brotteaux quarter. There, he found a group of about two hundred prisoners; priests and nuns, shackled alongside other revolutionaries with a large chain.

"Come on, let's go!" he shouted playfully at them. "It'll be fine! Just come along with me!" They followed him out of the city gates, towards the military encampment. He brought them to a stop at the bottom of a hill, and then turned to address them all. "Listen, my friends," said Herbois to the prisoners, "I have met with General Parein and, through my selfless persuasion, he has most generously decided to free you of your bonds! The group emitted a collective sigh of relief. Some hugged while some others praised God, and some others even began to dance. "Okay! Okay!" said Herbois smiling. He stepped through the crowd, and the people started to grasp at him, wanting to touch their savior. Soon he was through the crowd and walked to the top of the hill. One priest called out to him.

"Wait sir, our shackles! You said you'd free us of our shackles!" he said, holding up the chains between his wrists.

"From your bonds!" shouted Herbois. "Your earthly bonds!" Cannons, which had been hidden just behind the hill, began to crest the summit and were then aimed down at the group. Panic ensued.

"Cannons at the ready!" shouted Parein. He made a distasteful look at Herbois, who only nodded back at him. "Fire!" The cannons erupted with a shower of grapeshot and the giant shotguns tore through the members of the crowd. After the smoke had settled, cries came up from some of the survivors.

"Should we re-fire?" asked a soldier.

"No, just put them to the sword!" shouted Herbois. None of the soldiers moved. He shook his head and went forward to the grisly scene, sword drawn. He found a survivor, a nun whose arm and leg had been blown off in the blast. She looked up at him in shock, unable to make a sound. He plunged his sword into her abdomen, which coaxed a scream from her lungs. He looked back at the soldiers. "See?" he said. "Now come on! Parein?" Parein drew his sword slowly and motioned to his men, who did the same. They began to walk toward the massacre, some soldiers vomiting as they approached the bodies. Herbois began to look for other survivors, stabbing whenever he found one.

1794

February 19

"Hear the words of our creed and know them. Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent. Walk with the shadows. And never compromise the brotherhood," said Leona. The four were outside, behind the chateau. Next to Leona a large brazier was lit. Leona removed a pair of tongs from it and held it forward to Cécile. She extended her ring finger, and the red hot tongs closed around it. She winced in pain, and then was released. "Henri?" Henri did the same. "You two are now assassins. Nothing is true, everything is permitted."

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted," repeated the two. Gaspar looked down at his own burned finger and thought back to when he had been inducted.

"It would do you well to reflect on those words and constantly search for their true meaning for yourselves. Come now, let's go inside," said Gaspar.

March 3

"My god, this is not good," said Robespierre. He read over the report on Lyon that Couthon had given him again. "Two thousand? Herbois killed two thousand with grapeshot?"

"Parein stopped the grapeshot massacres in Nivôse (December), but that did not slow him down," said Couthon. Robespierre slammed the file down on to the table.

"This is not the way we work!" he shouted, tapping the file. "Send the orders for his immediate withdrawal from Lyon."

"I will give the order, sir."

"Damned trigger-happy lunatic."

March 7

"My God… Two thousand?" exclaimed Gaspar.

"That's what the word around the city," said Henri. He had been out to Paris and returned to the chateau with the news that afternoon.

"We… we did this," said Cécile.

"That kind of thinking does us no good," said Gaspar.

"We pushed them to revolt."

"Stop it. Leona?" Leona had not moved from her chair since she Henri had broken the news. "We are going after Herbois?" She stood up.

"We kill one of theirs, they in turn murder thousands. No, not this time. We're not going to blindly stumble forward like we've done before."

"So what are we doing?" asked Gaspar.

"We're going to break into Jean's residence. Find out everything we can about the committee; their membership, their meeting location, etc. Then we'll need to eliminate them. But until we are ready to strike, we show no aggression. Understood?" The three nodded. "Henri, you used to live in the same flat with Herbois, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then I would like you to come along with me on this mission."

"I will, Teacher."

"Leona," said Gaspar. "I will go with him."

"No, it's fine. I'll go with him."

"Please. I haven't been out in a while and you are less expendable than the three of us."

"I am not less expendable."

"Of course you aren't. But I'm still going." Leona resigned.

"Fine. You two start your planning and let me know."

"We will."

Chapter 20

Botched

May 23

Gaspar eventually came to consciousness and stood up out of the bushes where he had come to lie. He checked the sun over Paris, judging the time to be about ten o'clock in the morning. Feeling inside his robes, he pulled Herbois' diary from within and turned to the page he had seen before. He clapped it together angrily and stuck it back inside his robes. He looked up at the window from which he had fallen from and felt the back of his head. A good sized welt had risen on his scalp. He surveyed the region and began to piece together what exactly had happened before he lost consciousness. After falling to the ground, he had hit his head on a rock and rolled into the bushes, where he had remained hidden the entire night. 'Fallen, or was I pushed?' he thought.

"Damn it, Henri!" he shouted, looking around to find him. "Henri?" Gaspar said, less sure of the situation. He quickly climbed back up to the window and looked inside. Not finding Henri, he began to panic. "Oh no, no, no, no," he said. "The horses." He dropped down and ran back to where he and Henri had hid their mounts. He found that both were still tied to the tree. "Damn it!" he said again. Mounting his, he took Henri's horse by the reins and headed back to the chateau.

Leona was sitting in the chateau when Gaspar arrived.

"Where have you been? You should have been back hours ago!"

"Henri."

"What?"

"Henri, is he here? Quickly!"

"What? No, Henri is not here, he is supposed to be with you." Upon hearing this, the gravity of the situation hit Gaspar like a ton of bricks. He slumped into the nearest chair and covered his face with his hands. Leona went over to him. "Gaspar, what happened?" Gaspar looked back at her with shame and fear.

"We made… I made… a mistake…"

"Please, tell me."

"We… we had infiltrated Herbois' flat, just like we meant to…"

May 22

It was about eleven at night as Henri gave a last little wiggle to the wire, and the lock to Herbois' apartment went loose. He tucked his lock picking tools back into his robes and swung the door open. The flat was interestingly spotless, thought Henri. He supposed that the hours that Herbois devoted to the committee kept him from his home, so cleaning would not be an ordeal.

'Solving mysteries about cleaning is not what I came here to do,' he thought. He walked to the bedroom and found the window that he and Gaspar had spotted. He unlocked it and lifted it open to find Gaspar clinging to the outside ledge.

"Thanks brother," Gaspar said. Henri helped him through with a pull. "Where shall we start?"

"It will be faster if we search through different areas, don't you agree?"

"Quite. I'll begin in the study. You start here, in the bedroom." The two men split. Gaspar found the study room one door down from the bedroom and went to Herbois' writing desk. Several plays and scripts were scattered across it. Leona had told them that Herbois had been an amateur playwright during his times with the assassins. Gaspar began to skim through them. "Lucie, ou les Parents imprudents, L'Aîné et le cadet, L'Inconnu, ou le Préjugé vaincu," he read. He also found an essay which he had read, L'Almanach de père Gérard. None of these, however, were what he was looking for. He opened the writing desk and rummaged through more papers, but soon found himself empty-handed. Undaunted, he crouched down to look under the desk. Towards the back was a small wooden compartment attached to the underside. It did not match the wood that the desk had been made from, which piqued Gaspar's interest in it. He felt around on it and found a handle. He pulled at it, which caused the bottom of the compartment to slide out. On it was a leather-bound diary, sealed by a cord. He took the diary from its compartment and brought it up to the desk to read. He flipped to the first page, which read:

January 11th 1786

I will have to apologize to the man whom I stole this diary from. I have been on the run for so long now that morality is a passing thing to me, but I feel that I must put my thoughts to paper, should they become too crowded inside of my mind. My pursuers certainly will not give up the chase, and as I sit here writing this in this alley, I believe I hear them on the approach. They will not give up, will not forgive.

February 1st 1786

By the most gracious luck, I was stopped today by a most peculiar man. He recognized that I was in trouble, and promised me that I would be protected from whatever hounded me if I were to join his organization. He claimed to be an assassin. Assassin! My, I have heard tales in my day, but none like that. Oh well, if this man can promise a safe haven, then I will surely take it.

August 9th 1786

So I have fallen in with the assassins, a well-meaning group, if you ask me, but I find that their goals and their methods often conflict. They preach that they wish to have peace, but they maintain that the freedom of mankind is what will bring them there. I honestly cannot see them ever achieving their goal, but it matters little to me. They have provided me with shelter and safe haven, so much so that I can walk out in the streets without the fear of being cut down by my enemies. They also seek to topple the king from his throne, which, personally…

Gaspar flipped to the middle of the diary, hoping to find something more relevant.

July 21st 1789

I have graduated into full assassin status. Hooray. I have started to entertain the thought of leaving this organization, as they will now, without a doubt, expect more of me. I care nothing for their creed or their goals. My enemies have now been long dead or chased away. Jefferson has held Saint-Just back because he believes him to be an insubordinate. How easy it has been to pin all of my… little tendencies upon him. Calais, Monaco, Dijon, and that special little thing I did in Nice, he has been blamed for. Shame, really. Out of the three of us, he was the one who most believed in what the assassins were trying to accomplish, but it has been beaten out of him by the constant berating of Jefferson. Oh well, tomorrow will be a different day.

October 2nd 1789

One thing keeps me. Him. The man who bent down in kindness to see if I needed help that cold day in February; Robespierre. He speaks with me, Billaud-Varenne, and Saint-Just about his plans for the future; one without the meddling of Assassins or Templars, and for that matter, the meddling of religion. A world in which women can have the same opportunities as men can, where no child ever goes hungry, where no man is anyone's slave. All equal, in every single way. How can I turn away from this opportunity? This is a mission that I can get behind, one with a goal and the means to get there. He tells us that to see this goal realized we will need to grab ahold of the Apple of Eden that the king wields over his subjects. The assassins plan to take it from him soon, and then it will be within our grasp.

Gaspar flipped farther into the pages.

December 20th 1792

The days grow even shorter and colder. Robespierre is working on turning each assassin within the order. Billaud-Varenne, Saint-Just, and I have been allowed to keep control of our minds, for Robespierre tells us that he will need people who are able to think for themselves in the coming months. Most of the assassins submit to the power of the Apple quite easily, but there are some anomalies that must be dealt with. He leaves that to me. We have pleaded with him not to take Leona's life, however. She may be annoying with her dedication to the assassins, but she has been a friend to each of us. She may see the light soon enough…

Becoming frustrated, Gaspar then flipped to the back of the diary, trying to find anything that he could bring back to Leona.

April 17th 1794

The committee has recalled me due to my "excessive" behavior in Lyon. Excessive! Says the man who gives the orders to execute thousands daily! Sometimes I fear that my association with the man might lead to my downfall, so I may need to distance myself from him in the future.

'Interesting' thought Gaspar, 'but not enough.' Determined to find something, Gaspar read the very last entry.

April 20th 1794

I do often dream of my past life, and wonder if I was rescued from it, or the enslavement only began under Robespierre's service. Yes, the destruction of the Fontaine family was what I had agreed to, but not all were accounted for on the night the ship sank. Charles still evaded me, and my employers were not happy. I tried to explain that I would pursue him and bring my contract to a close, but they would hear none of it. They sent trained mercenaries after me, such as I had been sent after the Fontaines. I was determined, however, that bringing the news of Charles' death to them would provide me my freedom. After four years of searching I had found him living in Paris. I went to his residence, but all I found was his wife. He had been gone from the Fontaines for five years and created a new life for himself, going by Gaspar. She invited me in and explained that he had gone to work that day, but he would be back after. Her hair was long and golden, with the prettiest blue eyes that anyone has ever seen. I will write here, shamefully, that at the sight of her, sweet Dianne, my… tendencies gave in. She was just so lovely…

Gaspar dropped the diary. He tried to remain standing, but his legs gave out on him. He then lied on the ground and wept for a short time. The last piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place for him. The destruction of his family, all the pain that he had suffered in his life came from this one man.

"Gaspar?" he heard Henri call out to him. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up, tucking the diary into his robes.

"Gaspar!" hollered Henri from the bedroom.

"Y… yes?" he hollered back at him, his voice shaky.

"Herbois returns home! We need to leave!" Anger surged throughout Gaspar's body, all the way to the tip of his head.

"You mean he's here, now?"

"I see him coming up the roadway. We cannot be here when he arrives!" Gaspar withdrew his pistol from his belt. He walked out of the study and began to go towards the front door. Henri caught him.

"Brother, what are you doing? No aggression, this is what Leona has told us!"

"Get out of here, Henri." Gaspar growled, holding his pistol out in the direction of the door.

"No brother! You cannot do this!" Henri grabbed at the pistol and tried to wrench it from him. His interference caused it to go off in Gaspar's hand and the gun fired into the ceiling. Gaspar, forgetting Herbois in his fury, lunged at Henri. Henri, however, was an equal match for Gaspar's strength, and the two began to struggle throughout the house. Henri was able to pull him back to the bedroom and pushed him over the bed. Gaspar rose up, getting ready to go at it again, but the sound of the doorknob turning reminded him of his goal. He tried to push past Henri, but Henri, quickly thinking, grabbed Gaspar and pushed him out the open window through which he had entered from.

Down at the bottom, he saw that Gaspar had rolled into some bushes and was covered from sight. He had gotten one leg through the window, but then was caught by the shoulder by Herbois. He pulled Henri back through the window and threw him on top of the bed. Henri lunged at him, hidden blade extended, but Herbois caught his arm, extended his own hidden blade, and cut the twine that held Henri's hidden blade in place, all in one motion.

"I still keep mine on, despite what the others say. I've found it to be an invaluable tool," he said. He again tossed Henri to his bed. He pulled his pistol from his robes and aimed it at Herbois' leg, not wanting to kill him but allow for his own escape. He pulled the trigger, but the pistol misfired, a cloud of smoke hanging in the room. Henri threw the pistol at Herbois, which he dodged, then went after him with his fists. Herbois caught Henri and flipped him onto his back. "You know, I've had the exact same training that you've had," he said as he sat on Henri, "but I bet there's this one thing that Leona did not get to teach you." He ran his thumbs along Henri's throat and pressed down in a spot. "It's because I came up with it." After a few moments, Henri's world went dark.

Chapter 21

A Time for Goodbyes

Leona set the diary upon to fireplace mantle. Gaspar was slumped in his chair, brooding. She went to him and placed her hand upon his shoulder.

"There's nothing you can say that I haven't said to myself, Leona. My actions alone botched this mission, and now Henri pays the price for my overzealous action." Tears started to run down his face. "I apologize to the greatest extent possible, and submit myself to any punishment that you deem necessary," he finished, his voice small. Leona moved her hand from Gaspar's shoulder to embrace his own.

"I shall think upon it," was all Leona said, and then left for her room.

Later that day…

Cécile counted her steps as she ascended the stairs to the Tuileries Palace, Seventy-two she counted, and then was at the top. She looked around for any security detail along the outside of the palace, but did not find any. She opened one of the massive doors and stepped inside. The main hall stretched a little ways in and ended in a double door. The inside was even bleaker than the outside, Cécile noticed. For a moment, she thought herself in the wrong building until the doors at the end opened wide, revealing a singular person. He began walking towards her.

"Leona!" exclaimed Robespierre. "It's good to see that you've finally come to your… oh…" he said as Cécile came into view. "One of her little board pieces, instead?" he asked, reaching into his coat. Cécile pulled a knife from her belt with her right hand.

"For Charlotte," she said. She then flicked her wrist, extending her hidden blade. "And for Henri!" she yelled, charging at Robespierre. However, her body became frozen in place at the flash of the Apple in Robespierre's hand. He then walked in a circle around her, and then stopped, face to face with her. He then puffed out his lips.

"Sorry," he said, "but I can't play until I've finished my work." He then turned and walked back through the doors which he had entered. Cécile remained frozen in place for several hours until he reemerged with several members of the sans-culottes. "Strip her of her weapons," he ordered. The sans-culottes did so, and then held on to her arms and legs. Robespierre let the Apple flash again, and she regained control of her body. She then began to struggle with the men who held her.

"You have to wake up! He's controlling you with that thing!"

"Ah-ah-ah," said Robespierre. "It ruins the magic!" The Apple flashed once again and she went still, but not frozen. She looked around, confused.

"Where am I? Who are you? And who am I?" she asked, looking herself over.

"I'm afraid that I can't tell you who you are, my dear, but I can tell you who I am. My name is Maximilien Robespierre, the savior of France, and you are in the Tuileries Palace," he said, with the tone of suggestion, "and you just attempted to murder me."

"Oh no," said Cécile.

"Right, it was ever so horrible. Now, do you know what the sentence is for attempted murder?"

"Ah… death?"

"I was going to say a big hug from me to you, but I like yours so much better!"

"Oh."

"You probably deserve death though, right?"

"Yes, I suppose I do."

"Oh, but we have to plan your trial! Yes, the damned trial," he said with a snarl, to himself more than anyone. "But that's fine. I'll begin working on something that will speed things up around here. Do you know where you are going now?" he asked.

"Jail?"

"Jail! Yes, jail! You are catching on very quickly indeed."

"Oh, alright." The sans-culottes started to take her away, but Robespierre stopped them.

"You may release her. You will see that she will be no trouble at all, correct?"

"Yes," she said, and she was let free. As Robespierre had said, she did not attempt to run. She walked with complete complacency with the group of sans-culottes all the way back to La Conciergerie, even into her own jail cell.

May 25

"Brothers!" Robespierre declared to the Committee of Public Safety, "The enemy has revealed themselves, and their intentions have been made known. Leona has been rebuilding the Assassin Order in hopes to topple us from power. Just two days ago Jean and I were targets of one of their plots, but we repelled them and now have two in our custody. We know not how many they number or where they work from, but our interrogators are doing the best they can. The man is strong, but he will break."

"We'd have an easier time with the girl had you not wiped her memory," retorted Billaud-Varenne. Robespierre picked up a book from the table and hurled it at him, striking him in the face. Billaud-Varenne stood up, furious, but calmed at the sight of the Apple in Robespierre's hand.

"You are easily replaceable, Jacques, never forget this." Billaud-Varenne then sat back down in his chair, simmering. "Now, for our next meeting we will need to go over this little thing that I've been working on. Just something to speed things up." He withdrew a piece of paper from his coat pocket and passed it around to the members of the committee who in turn read over it. After it came back to him, he tucked it back into his coat pocket "Well I think that's all we have for today correct? Anyone else?" The room was silent. "Good then, our meeting is adjourned." The members of the committee began to get up and leave, but Herbois motioned for Billaud-Varenne to remain seated, and he obeyed. After the rest of the committee had left, Herbois stood up and closed the doors.

"Did you read over that document?" he asked.

"Yes," said Billaud-Varenne. "My favorite part; 'Every citizen is empowered to seize conspirators and counterrevolutionaries, and to bring them before the magistrates. He is required to denounce them as soon as he knows of them.' My god, what is he thinking?" Herbois sat down across from him and spoke.

"Do you ever get the feeling that you are on a sinking ship?"

"I've been getting the feeling as of late, yes."

"And what do you do on a sinking ship?"

"Reach out for anything that floats."

"Then we have an understanding, my dear friend."

June 10

Leona and Gaspar returned to the chateau silently that night, with minds still lingering on Paris, with their friends who lay in Robespierre's grasp. The two sat in the living room as they always did after returning from Paris, but there was no lively banter among the assassins as there usually was. They missed the other three that used to be among them, for even though assassins were taught to rely on themselves, they still needed friends, and now three of them were gone, and their goal seemed to slip even farther from their reach. Gaspar asked a difficult question.

"Have you decided what my sentence will be?" Leona took some time to answer.

"I have decided a sentence: death," she said, matter-of-factly. The word seemed to hang in the air above them.

"That is fair," said Gaspar. "So have you decided where I will die?" Leona looked confused at this question.

"Where you die is entirely up to you, Gaspar."

"Well, I think I would like to go back to Lyon, if it is all the same to you. Sort of brings everything full circle, I think."

"Well I wish you a safe journey," said Leona with a small smile. Gaspar was the one who was now confused.

"Are you not coming with me?"

"No. Where I will be is Paris."

"Uh," started Gaspar, quite awkwardly, "then how will you execute me if you are in Paris and me in Lyon?"

"I'm not sentencing you, Gaspar. Each man shall be their own master, and answer only to themselves. I could more easily hurl a stone to the moon that pass judgment upon you for what you did."

"But…"

"Yes, you made a mistake; I made three. They weren't ready, I knew it, but at the time I was willing to use them because I needed them. Now one is dead, and the other two shall soon be. Whose sin is greater?"

"I…" He looked at Leona sadly, and she mirrored his expression. "So who were you talking about?"

"Myself."

"Leona…"

"Maybe this madness will end, should Robespierre hold me in his grasp. That's my sentence; death, or whatever he has in store for me."

"You know he will not simply kill you."

"…I know…" Gaspar looked at the woman before him. She was beaten, world-weary, and completely out of options; none that he could think of anyway. He was unable to think of anything to say, except,

"Death too, then."

"Gaspar…"

"I was unable to protect my wife, and now my actions have caused the suffering of another. I do not deserve the satisfaction of vengeance." Tears began to form in Leona's eyes, as they too did in Gaspar's.

"Neither do I. Gaspar, I cannot ask you to follow me in this."

"You didn't have to. I've been here with you for a year and a half now, all of my own free will. And I will be there with you now."

"Thank you," was all Leona could muster.

"But we do have friends that we need to say good-bye too." Leona wiped a tear from her eye.

"Yes, yes we do."

June 17

Henri looked over towards the approaching guillotine. The sight of its crimson-dyed blade made him turn back to the crowd. They all blended in together as one sea of hatred, but one face caught his attention.

"Henri!" Gaspar shouted, running along Henri's cart.

"Gaspar!" said a badly beaten Henri. His clothes were torn and ragged, and he had several lacerations along his arms and face, and both of his eyes were black. Suddenly the cart came to a stop. Henri looked over to the driver, confused. Gaspar approached the cart.

"Leona's making a scene. We couldn't break you out, but we needed to see you one last time. And I needed to say… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"Now be quiet," said Henri. "What's done is done and there's nothing we can do about it now. We all knew the risks." Gaspar nodded.

"Have you seen Cécile?"

"Brother, they wiped her memory with the Apple. She doesn't remember anything; what she's been doing, where she is, even her own name. Sad, but it means that they couldn't pry her for information. And if you look at me," he said, glancing himself over, "you can see that I didn't give them anything either. Anything true, that is." Gaspar smiled.

"Thank you, brother." The cart began to lurch forward. The two clasped arms and then were separated. Henri watched as Gaspar was joined by Leona. She waved at him sadly, saying goodbye.

"Au revoir!" shouted Henri, and his cart was consumed by the swarming crowd.

June 23

The angry faces and screeching volumes of the mass frightened Cécile, and she kept her arms and legs drawn close to her, lest she give someone something to grab at. She wanted to get to the guillotine quickly, even though it meant her death, for it meant being out of the horrendous crowd. So when her tumbrel came to a sudden stop and the sneering visages began to encircle her, she curled up into a ball. She didn't understand why she was here; she had only woken in a jail cell, and was then accused of trying to murder someone named Robespierre. She tried to tell her jailors that she hadn't any memory of trying to murder anyone; or a memory of anything for that matter, but they thought her lying; trying to save herself from execution.

The faces seemed so intent just to catch a glimpse of her, and they poured out their hatred with their burning gaze. So Cécile was surprised when she saw a woman looking at her, wearing a sad but happy smile.

"Mon ami," she said, stretching out her arm to her.

"I… do I know you?" asked Cécile.

"Yes, you do," said Leona. Cécile began to tear up at these words.

"Who am I?" she asked desperately.

"Your name… is Cécile Renault, and you have friends and family who love you very much." Cécile began to cry happily.

"Thank you… thank you…" Leona began to cry, too. The two hugged between the bars, but the cart began to move, separating the two. This time, Gaspar had caused a scene, halting the cart. He came and stood by Leona, and the two waved to Cécile as she rolled away. When they had left the crowd, Gaspar spoke.

"It is done?"

"It is done," said Leona.

"Then it is our time."

"Yes."

Chapter 22

A Time for Action

The two solemnly approached the chateau, sad, but ready, to live their last night as free people. They would turn themselves in to the National Convention the next day, they had decided, in hopes that the bloodshed would come to an end. The two climbed the steps to the doors and stood there for a moment, letting the gravity of the situation soak in for what seemed like the first time for them. Gaspar reached in his pocket for his key to the door, but his hand came back empty. "Oh no. Leona, you don't happen to have the key, do you?" Leona fished in her pockets but found nothing. "I'll have to break a window then. I suppose it doesn't matter…"

"Well wait just a minute," said Leona. Her hand went for the door handle, and grasped it.

"Now there's really no way that…" he began to retort, but was silenced as Leona pushed the door open.

"Gaspar, you for sure locked these when we left?"

"I lock it every time we leave."

"Could Henri or maybe Cécile have had the key on them?"

"I…" he trailed off.

"Swords out," she said, drawing her sword from her scabbard. Gaspar did the same. They surveyed the living room top to bottom, but not finding anything, they proceeded down one of the hallways. Leona froze when she got to the study, motioning for Gaspar to look around her. She pointed with the tip of her sword to a large backed chair facing away from the door. Cresting the back of the chair was a black hood.

"Robespierre?" he mouthed to her. Leona looked unsure. She crept around the door frame and quietly approached the chair. Reaching it, she laid the sword across the man's shoulder.

"Whoever you are…" she began, but in a large sweeping motion, the hooded man held Leona's sword in his hands, resting it upon her chest. Leona barely had any time to process it. The man peered out from his hood, and then offered the sword back to her, removing his hood in the process.

"Thomas!" she exclaimed. He laughed and embraced Leona. "Oh my goodness, it is good to see you!"

"It is good to see you, friend."

"But… how? When? And why?"

"Boat and carriage and key," he began, tossing Gaspar's key to him. "You really need to keep that thing closer to you." Gaspar put it back in his robes, slightly embarrassed. "To answer your other questions, a week ago, and we have grown worried about our French brotherhood. The news of the city travels very far; the entire world is watching France right now to see what will come to pass. But enough of my grandiose talk; who is this?" asked Thomas, extending his hand toward Gaspar.

"Right! This is Gaspar. Gaspar, this is Thomas Jefferson, the author of the Declaration of Independence." The two shook hands.

"Not every day do I get to meet a man of your caliber, sir. It is an honor."

"You are too kind Gaspar. I was just the primary author. There were a slew of editors which history may forget, unfortunately. They are good men."

"From what I've seen sir, history has a way of forgetting the good men."

"I like you."

"I like you too, sir." Thomas smiled.

"And now Leona, we must talk. What in the hell is going on with Robespierre?" asked Thomas.

"How much do you know?" asked Leona.

"Bits and pieces, but it's all public knowledge."

"Come then; we have much to discuss."

Leona spent a great deal of the night recounting the story of her escape to Thomas; how Robespierre had sprung his trap, about her chance meeting with Gaspar, her brotherhood's attempts of diminishing Robespierre's influence, and the unfortunate capture of Charlotte, Henri, and Cécile. She also showed him the journal they had recovered from Herbois's flat.

"So," said Thomas, reading Herbois' journal, "All of the atrocities that I pinned on Saint-Just were actually committed by Herbois." He closed the journal and placed it in his lap. "I feel so foolish that I was not able to see through this. And from this writing, it seems that Saint-Just was most dedicated to our cause. I should have seen through it. All of it; Robespierre included."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," said Leona. "No one in our order could have seen it coming." Thomas sighed.

"Yes, well, I suppose you are right. But, enough of the past," he said, handing the journal to Leona. "What are your plans to topple Robespierre from power?"

"My… plans?"

"Yes, your plans. I want to know what you are going to do to finish it. Assassinate him; imprison him; hand him over to one of the many countries that call for his death?" Leona was a little taken aback.

"Thomas, I am out of plans. Look at everything that's happened because of my 'plans'. Lyon stands a ruin, I've sent three of my friends to the guillotine, and countless more go to join them daily, all because of me. I… I can't beat Robespierre. He has too much support now; the Tribunal, the Committee of Public Safety, the Apple… he's untouchable."

"He's all but untouchable, Leona," said Thomas. "He holds the city fast in his Reign of Terror, true, but this does not make him invincible. Fear is a powerful weapon, make no mistake of that. It is even more powerful than that which inspires love. But that which inspires hope is more powerful than the two combined, the hope that tomorrow might be just a little bit better than what we have today." Leona's eyes were downcast. "Now, what are your plans?"

"I… We were planning to turn ourselves in to the Tribunal, in hopes that Robespierre would stop all the bloodshed if we were dealt with…" Thomas stared at her silently for a moment.

"Do you realize how stupid that sounds?" Leona's face became very small. "Leona, he is not going to stop if he has you. You are all that stands in his way; why do you think he is pursuing you? You are the last person he needs to deal with, the last of your line. Once he has you, that's it."

"Well Thomas, I appreciate it, but I hardly think that the d'Orléans dynasty will die with me. My brothers still live in exile. But I don't see how that even matters anymore."

"D'Orleans…" said Thomas, slightly confused.

"Yes, d'Orléans, and you would have been able to find more people that share immunity to the Apple in time."

"Perhaps, but we still don't like losing the bloodline," said Thomas.

"What's so important about the d'Orléans family?!" Thomas was silent for a time.

"Lafayette never got to tell you, did he?" Now it was Leona's turn to be confused.

"Tell me what?"

"I guess he was waiting for the right time, but Robespierre got to him before that."

"Tell me what?" she asked again, frustrated. Thomas looked at her with slight apprehension.

"I suppose there's never a right time to tell someone this. Leona, you're… adopted." The news didn't immediately register with her.

"What do you mean, adopted?"

"It… is a long story." Leona stared crossly at him.

"Thomas, I have the time. What do you mean, I'm adopted?"

"I'm sorry Leona; I wasn't prepared to give this kind of news."

"So, is my gift an anomaly? Or is that something else that I wasn't told?"

"Your gift, as you suspect, is passed through blood."

"Then tell me, why didn't anyone tell me this before?"

"Your father, I can only guess that he wished you to not know, for reasons unknown," said Thomas. "And as for us, it wasn't our place to tell you before. Keep in mind; I had thought that Lafayette had already told you."

"Well, he didn't get the chance to." Leona closed her eyes and slung her neck over the back of her chair and pulled it up a few seconds later. "So, do you know about my parentage, or am I asking too much for that one?"

"I do know who your parents are, yes."

"Then tell me."

"It is a story about our former grandmaster Voltaire, and a young woman named Isabelle d'Aguillon."

Thomas then spent the next hour recounting the story of how the two had met; the star writer and philosopher of his day, the adoring woman who would do anything to meet him, and the surprising virility of said writer. He was on a tour of Lyon when the two met, and a light tryst ensued between the two while he remained there. But, eventually, he had to return to Paris, and she understood it. A few months later, though, she found herself pregnant with a baby, and died in childbirth on the night of April 13th, 1768.

"How long have you known?" asked Leona.

"It was after my arrival in Paris the first time. Lafayette was telling us about you and it just came up."

"Right." Leona sighed. "And how did you figure that my father was Voltaire?"

"The clue was in your original name, the one your mother gave you."

"What was it?"

"Olivatré. Here," began Thomas, writing down something on a piece of paper. He handed it to her and she saw it.

E

E

"Olivatré. So Voltaire; my father, and this Isabella d'Aguillon; my mother. I suppose that it makes sense."

"And I gave Lafayette further documentation, but I suppose that is lost along with the lodge. But know this; I gain nothing from lying to you right now. There are now no more secrets between us, and if it makes any difference, I'm sorry that we didn't tell you sooner."

"Apology accepted, Thomas. But one thing that I don't understand is this: why did Voltaire keep his abilities a secret from the assassins? They turn out to be very valuable." Thomas smiled.

"That's because he didn't have any, Leona."

"But I have the abilities. And you said that they are hereditary."

"They came from your mother."

"But she, from what you tell me, was a commoner, a peasant," Leona said, confused.

"Greatness from small beginnings, it seems. The universe has a way of doing that." Leona slumped back in her chair and yawned.

"What time is it?" she asked, looking at the clock. "Two? Good lord. Gaspar, are you still with us?" Gaspar jerked from his rest.

"Y…yes, always," he said. She smiled and shook her head at him. She then turned back to Thomas. "Time for bed? I'm certainly ready."

"For you, maybe, but not for me. I must be leaving, for I have many miles yet to travel."

"You're not staying?" asked Leona, disappointed.

"Afraid not. Too much to do and too little time."

"Well, we will escort you to wherever you need to go."

"No you shan't. I am still capable of defending myself. I got here unnoticed, I can leave the same."

"Thomas, last time you left…" Thomas cut her off.

"I knew about the assassin, and I had poisoned him. You just happened to kill him first," said Thomas with a smile. Leona smiled back at her friend. He stood up, and she did as well. "And I must be off. But Leona, a bit of advice; we may be assassins who work in the dark, but getting involved in this directly may not be the worst idea." Thomas held his arms out and the two hugged. Thomas then took his leave and shut the doors to the chateau behind him. After a few moments, Leona spoke.

"I can't just let him leave like this." She made her way towards the door and opened it, but couldn't see Thomas in any direction. She went down to the stables, but all of the horses were still there. "How…"

"Leona!" yelled Gaspar.

"Coming!" She jogged back up to the chateau doors where Gaspar was. "Yes?"

"Look," he said, handing her a brown paper package wrapped with twine. "It was here, on the front porch." She took it and looked it over and read some writing on it.

"From Ben," she said.

"Ben?"

"Benjamin Franklin. He was one of our brothers who died a few years back."

"Do you just know everyone?" asked Gaspar, amazed. Leona smiled as she began ripping the paper off of the parcel. Inside was a hidden blade, heavily modified, she could tell, to suit the original user's needs. She smiled at the gift, and then strapped it to her right arm. "You're not going to replace the one you have now?" asked Gaspar.

"No. It is a smaller tradition that we have; when you are presented with your second hidden blade, it is for recognition of Grandmaster status."

"Grandmaster… congratulations."

"Thank you Gaspar." Leona stared out into the darkness. "Do you know when Robespierre is making his next speech?"

"Uh… July 27th, I believe."

"Then we have about a month of planning to do," she said, then closed the doors to the chateau behind them.

Chapter 23

Execution

July 26th

"Are you going to be there tomorrow?"

"No, I need to make preparations for our safety after our plan is set in motion. You will have to start it by yourself. Are you fine with that?"

"Yes, I will be. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

July 27th

6:00 p.m.

The Salle du Manège was the seat of deliberations during most of the French Revolution. Six tiers of benches permitted space for the deputies, ranged on either side of the central tribune, initially planned for the orators' podium. Seated together for solidarity, the deputies seated themselves according to their political opinions, to right and to left of the president's desk. The Montagnards, the supporters of Robespierre, sat on the left, and the Girondins, the opponents of the Montagnards, sat on the right, with The Plain seated in the lowest rank of benches. The public found places to witness the spectacle at either end of the hall and in the loge seats above.

The two assassins, reinvigorated in their efforts, had infiltrated the Salle du Manège, seating themselves among the lower benches. Robespierre was scheduled to give his speech today, and they were seated among the crowd as Saint-Just prepared to give his precursory speech. However, some of the people amongst the audience had witnessed Robespierre giving the same speech to the Jacobin Club, and learned that he meant to call for a purge of the National Convention of the "impure" men. As Saint-Just began his speech, Billaud-Varenne stood up.

"Know, Citizens," he shouted, "that yesterday the president of the revolutionary tribunal openly proposed at the Jacobin Club to drive all impure men from the Convention, that is, all those they want to sacrifice." Leona sat forward in her seat, interested in what Billaud-Varenne had to say.

"Should we do something about him?" asked Gaspar.

"No, not yet," replied Leona. "We may not have to intervene here at all."

"But how can you trust him?" asked Gaspar.

"I don't trust him, but I do trust his will to survive. Let's listen."

"But," Billaud-Varenne continued, "the people are here, and the patriots know how to die to defend freedom." Shouts of support began to arise among the audience, above and below. "An abyss has opened beneath our feet: we must not hesitate to either fill it with our corpses or to triumph over the traitors." At this point, Robespierre emerged from behind a doorway and approached the podium. Gaspar started to stir in his seat, but Leona put her hand on his arm and shook her head.

"But this is what we were waiting for!" said Gaspar.

"Just hold for a minute, let's see what happens," said Leona. Gaspar settled back into his chair. Robespierre was now standing beside a silent Saint-Just.

"Listen, my friends…" began Robespierre, but his voice was shouted down by the crowd, who were growing more restless. "Down with the tyrant!" yelled Billaud-Varenne, and the crowd echoed. Then a man leapt up from the crowd and joined Robespierre onstage.

"Friends, my name is Jean-Lambert Tallien, and until now I imposed silence on myself because I knew this man, who was nearly the tyrant of France, had drawn up a list of proscriptions. I didn't want to cast any recriminations, but I saw yesterday's meeting of the Jacobins and I trembled for the fatherland. I saw being formed the army of a new Oliver Cromwell, and I armed myself with a dagger," at this point, he reached into his shirt pocket and threw a knife down to the ground, "to pierce his breast if the National Convention were to lack the courage to place him under accusation. I implore the Convention to arrest this man, arrest his toad Hanriot, and that the Convention remain in session until the sword of the law has ensured the revolution! I denounce this man who, in the Committee of Public Safety, should have been the defender of the oppressed; who should have been at his post but abandoned it for four months. And when did he do this? When the Army of the North was causing his colleagues great worries. He abandoned it in order to slander the Committee, and all of them saved the fatherland!" Applause surged from the audience. "And it was while Robespierre was charged with general policy that the acts of oppression of individuals were committed!"

"That's not true!" shouted Robespierre. "It is to you pure men that I address myself, and not to the brigands," he said, trying to appeal to the Montagnards, but found that the majority of them were no longer in his favor. "I… I…" he sputtered, but soon his voice became hoarse.

Someone in the crowd shouted, "See? Danton's blood is suffocating him!" In a last-ditch effort, Robespierre shouted back.

"And so it's Danton you want to avenge? Cowards: why didn't you defend him?" But he knew that he had lost this battle of words. A man named Louchet ascended the podium.

"I demand the arrest of Robespierre!" As the words left his lips, the crowd finally went quiet. The presiding members of the Revolutionary Tribunal, seated high above everyone else, had been silent unlike the crowds, and now all eyes were on them. They turned to each other, talked quietly for a moment, and then the president of the Revolutionary Tribunal, René-François Dumas stood up.

"Bailiff," said Dumas, "please take Robespierre, Saint-Just, and Couthon into custody." Bertrand Barère de Vieuzac, one of the Committee of Public Safety's members, began to draw up warrants for their arrest. Nicolas-Joseph Vivier, judge of the Revolutionary Tribunal looked over the documents and approved them.

"Please!" cried Augustin Robespierre, Maximilien Robespierre's younger brother, who was in attendance, "I am as guilty as him; I share his virtues, I want to share his fate. I ask also to be charged." One of Robespierre's closest supporters, Joseph Le Bas, stood up beside the younger Robespierre.

"I will not allow my friend to go to the block without my company," he said. "Take me as well!" The bailiffs, with the warrants in hand, clasped the five in irons and led them out of the building. The crowds of the Salle du Manège soon began to disperse, but Leona's and Gaspar's seats had been empty for some time.

"They've bound his hands," Leona said, watching the soldiers that escorted Robespierre and the other four. Couthon, one of the prisoners, was paralyzed from the waist down and was wheeled in his wheelchair. "Let's follow them for a bit, see where they go." The two did this, rounding streets and keeping to the corners, following the troop's every move. Then, while the troop was marching, they came to a blockade of Paris Commune soldiers, led by General Jean-Baptiste Coffinhal (the Paris Commune was the Parisian government dominated by Jacobins who were not in the Legislative Assembly, and therefore loyal to Robespierre).

"This isn't good," said Leona. "They plan to free him." Some words were exchanged, and then the escorts handed over the prisoners. The two ducked into an alleyway as the Commune troops marched forward. The soldiers moved on, and as the two emerged, Billaud-Varenne, who had been following them since they left the Salle du Manège, caught up to them.

"Please, I wish no harm!" he pleaded as he approached, his hands in the air.

"Traitorous snake!" Leona shouted, and ran toward him. She grabbed him by the collar, punched him across the face, and then held her hidden blade to his throat. To her surprise, he made no struggle. "What is your game here? Why turn on Robespierre?"

"First, you must promise that whatever you have planned for me, that you do it after I am done speaking," he said. Leona closed the gap between her and him, pushing the blade further onto his throat.

"I'm listening. Intently," she said through gritted teeth.

"We both know that Robespierre is a madman; the only difference is that I thought that his visions would bring us the vision that we had for France."

"You're lying," she said angrily, and pressed the blade even farther onto his throat, causing a spot of blood to appear on his neck.

"No I…" he started, wincing. "Look, I won't pretend that I'm still an assassin, but believe me when I say that I am just a man who had a vision for his country, and thought that Robespierre's way was the most effective to get what we wanted."

"And the destruction of Les Neuf Sœurs seemed to go along with your 'vision'?"

"You don't understand Leona; both sides need to stop! As long as one continues, the other shall survive. You and the Templars will continue to do this dance for eternity until you can both stop with your meddling. That's what we wished to do!"

"No, it's you who don't understand," she said, releasing him. "You need not bear the cross to be of the cross."

"Whatever, we can debate ideology another time," he said. "The army is marching against the Tuileries Palace and the National Convention, but first they will drop Robespierre and his company at the Commune-controlled Hôtel de Ville. Soon, the National Convention's soldiers will engage the Commune's and will surely overwhelm them. Afterwards the soldiers will try to recapture Robespierre, but you must liberate the Apple and before they get to him." Billaud-Varenne began to jog away from them.

"Why are you doing this?" Leona shouted at him. He stopped.

"Because I now know that he's the worst thing that's happened to France since the plague," he replied, and continued his jog.

July 28th

2:00 a.m.

François Hanriot walked along the hallways of the Hôtel de Ville with Augustin Robespierre. Hanriot had secured the hôtel with a skeleton force, but now the soldiers had deserted, fearing the oncoming forces of the National Convention.

"I don't believe that we're getting out of this alive," he said to Robespierre. "With your brother an outlaw, his days are numbered."

"Well…" started the younger Robespierre, but didn't have anything else to add except, "Hey, what are those two windows doing open?" It was as he said; two windows side by side were ajar, swinging in the breeze. The two went to close them, but as they did, a hand came up through each and grabbed them and pulled them from the three story window. Augustin hit the ground hard on his legs and screamed in pain. After he regained some sense, he looked around for Hanriot.

"Hanriot? Hanriot?" but Hanriot didn't respond, for he fell unconscious from the fall and into a pile of manure. Augustin saw this, and then blacked out from the pain.

Following her Eagle Sense, Leona was able to easily find the room that Robespierre was in. The two burst through the doors to find Le Bas and Couthon in the room. Le Bas pulled a pistol, but Gaspar fired a bullet that found his head first. Couthon, although confined to his wheelchair, fired a shot at Leona, but it misfired, leaving a cloud of smoke in his face. Leona, not wishing to shoot a man who couldn't walk, took his pistol and threw it away from him.

"Get out," she said to him. Couthon wheeled his way around the two and into the hall where Leona and Gaspar had come from. He managed to get away from them, but failed to stop his wheelchair at the staircase at the end of the hall, and screamed as he fell down the stairs. The two had watched this unfold, and then looked at each other, slightly amused. Leona shrugged her shoulders and began scanning the room for Robespierre. There was another set of doors opposite to where they had entered.

"Get ready," said Leona, and pulled her pistol. She nodded at Gaspar, and he kicked the doors into what seemed like an office area. Robespierre was sitting behind the desk facing the two.

"Welcome friends!" he said.

"Connard!" she said, advancing with her pistol aimed at his head.

"Please…"

"Please?! Please what?! End you?! You enfoiré!"

"Please remove her firearm from her," he finished. From behind the door emerged Saint-Just. He caught her off guard and wrestled for a moment with her. It seemed as though he might have had the upper hand, but then Gaspar hit him with the butt of his pistol. Saint-Just slumped to the ground.

"Thanks," said Leona. He helped her to her feet and returned her pistol to her, which she immediately turned to Robespierre's head again.

"The Apple. Now. No more secrets, no more games, just give it to me."

"Is that longing that I hear in your voice, Leona? Longing for the power that the device gives you? Would you master the power like so many assassins before you, use it to usher in a new Golden Age not just for France, but for the world? But you are a student of history, are you not? You know of the madness of Altaïr, of Ezio, and the countless others who have wielded it. Even with your resistance, you will succumb. You will become me." Leona was slightly confused.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"You think I don't know how crazy I am?" Robespierre's tone was anxiously agitated. "It is all I see, day and night, and maybe, just maybe, it will stop with enough blood. Maybe it has a mind of its own. Once it sees what it's wrought, it may let me be free. Haha! Don't you see? It is a circle! You use it to win battles and wars, and then, and then it makes you see them where they don't exist! You think I don't know how crazy I am? Hahahahahaha!"

"What is going on here?" Gaspar whispered to Leona. She lowered her pistol.

"The Apple has a maddening effect on those who use it. He's had unadulterated access to it for over five years, it is no surprise."

"What?! What are you saying?!" Robespierre asked agitatedly.

"He could be faking, trying to get us off guard," said Gaspar.

"True. This doesn't excuse anything that he's done, though." She raised her pistol again. "Tell me, did you ever believe in anything, Robespierre?"

"Beliefs? Oh yes, I had many bee-leaves at one point, but they took them one by one, so sorry, I have no bee-leaves anymore."

"How in the hell have you been able to keep it together?" she asked.

"The Apple helps," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"This is going nowhere," said Gaspar.

"Where is the Apple?" asked Leona.

"Did you check the tree?" he asked. Leona pulled the hammer back on her pistol. "Sure, threaten the man who knows where it is, very smart."

"Where?"

"I don't have it anymore. I really don't; I couldn't lie to you if I wanted to, and I really, really want to."

"Then where is it now?"

"I do remember giving it to my brother for safe keeping. You know, the one you just threw out of a three story window? He might know! Haha!" Gaspar ran back to check the window he had fallen from, but felt more pressing concerns with the large army on the approach to the hôtel.

"Leona!" he shouted on approach, "Army's here!"

"Okay!" she shouted back, and pressed the barrel of her pistol against his forehead. His eyes crossed for a moment on it, then stared back at Leona. "One last question; why? Why all of this slaughter? What do you have to show for it?" Robespierre curled his lip and threw up his hands.

"Why not?" was his reply. Leona reared back her pistol and hit Robespierre across the head with it.

"We need to go, now," said Gaspar. "Just shoot him and be done with it."

"Yes, please give me the lead grape," he said. "Bring this nightmare to a close, would you?"

"Gaspar, please give us a moment and tidy up outside, will you?"

"Of course," replied Gaspar, and closed the doors behind him.

"You know, you're just like me," said Robespierre. "If you are able to find the Apple, you can't resist the power; no one has been able to. You and I, we are the same."

"No," said Leona, "I'm nothing like you. I'm an assassin, and I believe in choices," she finished, and tossed the gun down on to the table. "Die a coward's death and save yourself from the guillotine, if you wish. I no longer care. The city is no longer yours." And with that, she left and joined Gaspar. He had arranged the bodies to where it seemed that there was no invasion, only panic amongst the men as the guards approached.

"Are we done?" asked Gaspar. Leona gave one last look at the man behind the desk.

"We're done."

As Leona and Gaspar were running along the rooftops, they heard a singular gunshot emerge from the hôtel, then silence. They stopped only for a moment, and then continued on.

10:00 a.m.

Augustin Robespierre had survived his fall, along with Hanriot and Couthon. They had gone before him, so only he, Saint-Just, and his brother remained. The crowd cheered with increasing applause as he was lowered onto the board, strapped to it, slid forward, and the lunette brought down to secure his neck in place. The drums rolled and stopped, and then the blade fell on to his neck. The crowd went wild with applause, but two in the audience kept their hands to their side.

"So he shot himself," said Gaspar, smiling.

"It would seem that he did," said Leona, smiling also.

"But…"

"But it seems that he missed," Leona chuckled, shaking her head. "I gave him the option."

"Chance offered, taken, and wasted. How does one miss when shooting themselves?"

"Well… the pistol may have… had a history of malfunctioning…" she said, coyly. Gaspar smiled at Leona as the blade came down upon Saint-Just's neck. The crowd surged again.

"Come; let's get a look at him," said Gaspar. The executioner did not immediately place Robespierre upon the board. Instead, he first brought him up in front of the guillotine. Robespierre's hair was a mess, his shirt was stained with blood, and his jaw was wrapped in a bloody rag, holding it in place. "Did he shoot himself in the jaw?" Gaspar asked, chuckling.

"Seems so," Leona said, shaking her head again. Robespierre's eyes were downcast, breathing in and out heavily. Leona could almost make out regret on his face, if not for the rag on his face. He looked tired, most of all. Without warning, the executioner reached up and tore away the rag, and coaxed from Robespierre's lungs an agonizing scream that rivaled the crowd's. His screams did not stop, not when he was strapped to the board, and not when the lunette was put in place. It was not until the blade was brought down upon his neck that was Robespierre silenced.

"Repose en paix," said Leona.

"I don't think he will," said Gaspar, and the two made their way through the crowd and started on the road back to the chateau.

Chapter 24

The Times to Come

1795

The months following Robespierre's downfall did not bring the peace that Leona and Gaspar had hoped for. A period known as the "White Terror" ensued, where many people reacted to the fall of Robespierre by hunting the remaining members of the Jacobins. Real and suspected supporters and members were attacked and murdered in the streets, often without consequence. Show trials were often held for those who made it to court, their fates already decided. Several of the Jacobins were former assassins under the control of the Apple, and with Robespierre dead, the spell upon them was broken. As the Grandmaster, Leona was able to reconcile with the few members who had survived the Reign of Terror. The assassins then abandoned the Les Neuf Sœurs lodge, preferring the Chateau-du-Fontaine as their headquarters; far enough away from the city, but a close enough ride should there be anything that the assassins needed to attend to.

The hunt for the Apple continued, but not much turned up about it. Whatever secrets Augustin had, they died with him. The assassins mainly concerned themselves with keeping the peace amongst the city during the White Terror. Well, most of them did, anyway.

March 15th

"I found him," said Gaspar, excitedly. Leona was sitting at her desk in the office area of the chateau.

"Found him…" said Leona. "Found who?"

"Collot d'Herbois! He and Vieuzac and Billaud-Varenne have been exiled to Cayenne, Guiana. If we leave right now, we could catch them on the road, or on the seas if need be."

"Well, ok…" said Leona tentatively.

"So, we are going after them, right?"

"Do… do you think that's wise?"

"Of course! They followed in Robespierre's steps, who knows what they will plan to do given time?"

"But you were there with me; Billaud-Varenne knew of Robespierre's insanity. He had drifted so far from his vision that his own betrayed them. I don't believe them to be a threat anymore."

"But Leona, I _really_ think that we should go after him. Them." Leona could detect the agitation in his voice.

"Gaspar, where is this coming from?"

"It's not coming from anywhere; they just need to be stopped."

"They aren't doing anything. If they return to France and break their exile, we will deal with them then."

"That's not good enough!" yelled Gaspar, slamming his fist down on the desk. He was breathing heavily.

"Gaspar, what you are proposing is murder, and…"

"Oh, now you lecture me on murder," he interrupted. "As if everything we've accomplished would be possible without murder."

"That's not the way we work, Gaspar."

"So you get to decide how we work now? You get your revenge with Robespierre and then you deny any further peace for the rest of us? We're assassins, Leona, we kill people. The scum may have found their scruples, but that doesn't excuse what he and the Committee have done."

"Gaspar, quit hiding this behind your duties as an assassin and talk to me plainly." Gaspar looked at her indignantly. "Tell me the truth; is this still about your wife?"

"Of course it is," said Gaspar.

"Gaspar… I am in no position to lecture anyone, but that was almost ten years ago. Has time not soothed your anger? Isn't it time to put this behind you?"

"No, and it won't be satisfied until the enfoiré sees justice."

"What you propose is vengeance, not justice."

"What's wrong with combining the two?!" he shouted. There was a very loud silence that followed Gaspar's words.

"Gaspar… what about us?"

"W… what… w…" Gaspar stammered. "You did not just say that. What about us?"

"Did that night mean nothing to you?" Gaspar smiled and shook his head.

"Of course it did, Leona." His tone was softer now. "But you were the one who told me that when this was all over, we would find out where we wanted to go. It's been over for a while now, and right now, I want to go to Cayenne. And… I would like it very much if you came with me."

"Gaspar I… cannot go. There is still so much to be done in the city…"

"And now it is you who hides behind your duties. Fine." Gaspar calmed himself and straightened his robes. He pulled his key from his pocket and threw it on the desk. It clanged against the wood like a stricken bell ringing in the night. "I leave this place to you, Leona, but never forget from whom it came." he finished, and walked away. He turned before leaving. His eyes were softer than before. "I'll miss you," he said, and then left the chateau. After she heard the doors shut, Leona sat back in her chair and began to cry.

October 5th

5:00 a.m.

Leona was awaken to the growing thunderstorm outside. She knew not what time it was, but decided to take a walk around the chateau in the waning moonlight. That was the first odd thing that she noticed.

'Moonlight? But…' Leona looked out of a window she was passing by. No clouds and no rain streaked the skies; only moonlight shone through them. 'They weren't supposed to be here yet,' she thought, running back to her room to get dressed.

The Royalist army had grown quite large since it set out with a few thousand members from the West coast of France. Consisting mostly of anti-republicans and Catholic sympathizers, they were backed by foreign aid, and now marched on the Le Peletier section of Paris, a little north of the Notre Dame Cathedral. The National Convention ordered General Jacques-François Menou to defend the capital, but was severely outnumbered with 5,000 Revolutionary troops against the Royalist's 30,000. Generals Despierres and Verdière were called to assist him, but failed to advance into the coming line of invaders when asked to do so. Menou advanced tentatively to parlay, but the Royalist forces saw this as a weakness of the National Convention. Menou was quickly replaced due to his error, and General Paul Barras was called in to replace him. This is the scene that Leona was racing towards.

6:00 a.m.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as Leona rode her horse into the city.

'How can they already be here?' she thought. 'They were three days out at last report!' The cannon fire had ceased, but she raced through the streets anyway. 'And who was able to bring cannons it to the city?' She climbed to the roofs and ran the rest of the way to the battle scene. When she got to the Le Peletier section, she saw that most of the troops had moved on, but stunningly, the Revolutionary forces stood victorious. She waited a bit longer, and then descended to the ground. Most everyone was dead, torn to shreds by cannon fire. She ducked around a corner when she saw a man in full military regalia stooping before an injured soldier. Leona saw a dim flash of light occur between the two men, and then the man in the military coat patted the soldier, mounted his nearby horse, and rode into the swallowing mass of the city. Leona ran up to the injured soldier and looked him up and down, his most grievous injury being his missing left leg. From his outfit, what was left of it, she could tell he was a Royalist.

"What happened here?" she asked.

"We were trying to march on the Convention, but got caught in the narrows," he replied, coughing up blood. He seemed to be in good spirits, all things considered. "Ordered for his damn 'whiff of grapeshot', can't believe it." Leona looked down at his missing leg again.

"Are you in pain? I might have…" she began to look around in her robes, but the man stopped her.

"No, no pain. The fine gentleman gave me some of his light for the pain." Leona was confused with his words.

"He… made your pain lighter?" she asked.

"No, he had a tiny ball of light… and it just made my pain go away," he said with a fading voice.

"Right," said Leona, understanding. "And who was this man?" The wounded soldier smiled and said;

"General Bonaparte," and then he slumped over and died.

"Repose in paix," she said, closing the man's eyes. "Bonaparte. Bonaparte," she repeated to herself, all the way back to the chateau.

Epilogue

1796

June 6th

9:00 p.m.

The last bit of Thomas's wine slipped from the bottle into Leona's glass.

"Thank you sir," she said.

"A Lafite wine, from my personal stash at Monticello," said Thomas.

"A very fine addition," said Leona.

"Yes, but it is a shame that the revolution claimed Nicholas Pierre de Pichard. Let's hope that the next owners are capable of producing the same quality."

"Yes, I'm sure the Château Lafite Rothschild will be in good hands."

"But their prices, lord, it seems a wonder that they are able to stay in business."

"Well, imagine what they'll be paying for a bottle of this in a few hundred years," Leona laughed.

"Pennies," said Thomas, smiling. Leona raised her glass.

"To your health," said Leona. Thomas mimicked her.

"And to yours as well," replied Thomas, and they both took draughts from their cups. "So, the Apple is with this Bonaparte fellow…"

"Yes."

"Templar allegiance?"

"We think so. It seems that the Templars have taken advantage of the power vacuum that Robespierre left." Leona drummed her hands on the table. "So, have you had any progress of freeing Lafayette?"

"We are making progress, but it will be at least another year before he walks as a free man. I am sorry."

"No, no; that we are making progress is a miracle in itself."

"Yes." Thomas took another drink of wine. "Speaking of absent members, where is your friend Gaspar?" Leona then took a long drink.

"He's gone."

"Gone?"

"Gone."

"Do you know where?"

"No," Leona lied.

"Is he going to be a contingency that needs to be dealt with?" Leona took a long deep look into her glass.

"It's too soon to tell," she said, and finished her wine.

June 7th

12:00 a.m.

Jean Marie Collot d'Herbois stumbled into his beach hut, drunk. He had been out at one of the bars in Cayenne, spouting some revolutionary nonsense, but someone convinced him that it was time to go home, to which he agreed. As he held on to of the ceiling support logs, he noticed he was not alone in his hut. A man dressed in all black sat in a corner of the room with a cloak hiding his face. There was a table next to the man, and upon it was a cylindrical object that was covered with a cloth. Herbois thought for a moment.

"Charles, or do you go by Gaspar these days? I can never remember." Gaspar stayed motionless. "Sorry about your family," he coughed, "it was just business, as you are well aware. Thanks for stealing my diary." He coughed again. Herbois felt some of his muscles tightening strangely. Gaspar said nothing. "If it is any consolation, I am sorry about the pain that I've brought y…" He hacked violently. He felt at his throat. It was tightening as well. "So, what can I do for you?" he asked, his voice raspy. Herbois could feel his limbs locking up. "Information? Memories? Your wife's final words? My life?" he said, and then slumped to the floor, paralyzed. His other senses remained, however, and he heard Gaspar rise from his chair, and he slowly slid into his field of vision.

"What I want, Monsieur Herbois, is for you to be silent for a time," said Gaspar. "And if that requires the use of a paralyzing agent that I've picked up on my travels, then so be it." Gaspar kneeled down and removed his hood.

"I have been waiting for six years to get this opportunity, to wrap my fingers around your neck, to see the life leave your eyes as I choke the last bit of air from your lungs. What you did was monstrous, and deserves something monstrous in return. But arriving here now, at the end of this long journey, I have come to realize that your death would not bring me the peace that I thought it would. You and your kind are just a symptom of the illness. And I hope to someday heal that illness, but your blood will get me nowhere. You are a waste of my time." Gaspar stood in silence, looking at the man that lay upon the floor. "The drug is something I found in my travels, from the organs of the pufferfish. It causes paralysis one hour after ingestion. You should only be experiencing paralysis if I mixed the doses right, however. Japanese is one hell of a language to decipher. You know, you really shouldn't accept drinks from strangers." Gaspar paused.

"Nothing to say? I understand. It is a lot to take in," he said, rolling his pants down inside his boots. "If you could speak, you'd probably ask you'd probably ask why I am here, if not to kill you. And that is a very fair question, my friend." He rolled his sleeves up into his gloves and tied them there. "My journey for vengeance has been satisfied. Now, I am an instrument of the needy, both big" he said, rolling pieces of cloth around his face until none of his skin was touching air, "and small." He walked back to the table and brought back the cylindrical object. "A local nuisance, I'm told. But they hunger, and so I am to oblige," he said, and then dropped the jar out of Herbois's sight. But then, Herbois saw his hut fill with several hundred tiny insects. They flew wildly around the room, and Herbois saw one crawl upon his frozen eye.

'Mosquitoes!' Herbois screamed inside his head. He felt other areas of his body being descended upon by the bugs. Gaspar leaned to look him once more in the eyes. They stared back at him, blankly. "Au revoir, Monsieur Herbois," said Gaspar, and took his leave of the hut. Upon exiting, he checked the windows, making sure that he had sealed them well. Content in his work, he strode over to his horse that he had hidden in the shadows, mounted it, and rode away, its hoof prints disappearing as the wind blew the sand across the beach.


End file.
